


Home Is Where The Heart Is

by kcat1971



Series: Transitions [5]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 08:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 26,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13655253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcat1971/pseuds/kcat1971
Summary: It's the weeks after Thanksgiving.  Josh and Donna figure out what makes a home.





	1. Chapter 1

We are home before 8 on Monday. There is a yellow sticky note on the door.

[Package delivered on 11/27/06. Please see Super]

“I’ll start something for dinner. Can you go get it?” I ask Josh, handing him the sticky note.  
“You’re going to make dinner?” Josh asks, eyebrows raised.  
“Are you questioning my cooking skills?” I retort.  
“Noooo. . . ” he says cautiously. “ I’ve just never seen you cook.” He wisely leaves the apartment to go get the package, while I wander into the kitchen and open the refrigerator.  
I suppose he has a valid point. We’ve been married less than two weeks. The first week we were on our honeymoon. Then we were only home two days before we went to Florida to spend Thanksgiving with his Mom. During the time we’ve been together, we’ve mostly eaten in the office, or on the road, or had carry-out. When I took care of him while he was recovering after Rosslyn, he didn’t eat much. I mostly heated up soup from his favorite deli.   
We haven’t talked about this domestic stuff. I know he doesn’t cook much for himself. He can make coffee but other than that he’s lived on carry-out. I close the refrigerator door. There really isn’t much in there, an open box of baking soda, a six pack, a can of coffee, and condiments. 

I can cook the basics. Nothing fancy but I do know how to use a crock-pot. I didn’t have enough money to eat carry-out everyday. I would usually have coffee and toast or a bagel for breakfast. I’d bring a yogurt for lunch. Occasionally, I’d get a salad. Most days we worked late enough that Josh would buy me dinner. On the days that he didn’t, I’d end up making some scrambled eggs or something quick and easy. I usually keep a pretty good stack of frozen microwaveable meals in the freezer for that purpose.   
I open the freezer. There is an old frozen pizza, half a carton of frost-bitten ice-cream and a couple containers of concentrated juice. Definitely nothing for dinner here. Fine. On-to the cupboards, a couple cans of soup, a box of elbow macaroni, several boxes of old crackers, some pudding, a box with one protein bar and a cake mix. When the hell was he going to make a cake?!

Alrighty, then. I concede. I pick up the phone, dial the number for Chinese and order the usual. I plop down on the couch and look around. I’ve been in Josh’s apartment hundreds of times, but now its mine too. The two days we were here last week, things were too fresh, and hectic to really stop and think about it, but now I’m feeling a touch overwhelmed.  
What am I supposed to do?!? Two weeks ago I was worried that sleeping over might be too big of a step and now we’re married and this is our house? I literally have two suitcases worth of clothes here: the things I had on the campaign and vacation stuff. I guess I need to make arrangements with Janice, or as Josh likes to call her, the twitchy chick from Treasury, to pick up more of my stuff this weekend. How much of it should I bring? Where will I put it?  
Josh walks back into the apartment holding a box and a stack of mail. He tilts his head and studies me for a minute.  
“Everything okay?” He asks as he sets the mail down on the coffee table.  
I think he’s always been pretty good at picking up on nonverbal clues, but the difference is now he’s asking what they mean instead of just guessing or avoiding.  
“There’s nothing here to eat. I ordered Chinese.”  
“Okay. Sounds good.” 

He takes off his suit coat and tosses it over the treadmill, then starts to loosen his tie as he sits down next to me. As I lean into him, I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. He automatically wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives me a little squeeze. I lean further into him and wrap my arms around his waist. With my head on his chest I can hear the steadiness of his heartbeat, and it relaxes me. When he holds me like this the world feels right. I close my eyes and shut out the view of a bachelor pad that is technically my home. Ten minutes or so goes by, I take another deep breath and sit up. He smiles softly at me.  
“What’s up?” He knows something’s going on with me.  
“Oh, you know, just all of a sudden the word “Transition” has taken on a whole new meaning. I’m really happy to be with you, but I’m feeling a bit discombobulated right now. In my head, I know I’m not homeless, and as long as you’re holding me, I know it in my heart too. But sitting here, I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed.” I shrug and motion vaguely around his apartment.  
“You know you can make any changes you want, right?” I don’t know how to articulate it exactly. I don’t want to make change for the sake of change. I’m sure we’ll eventually make this a home. It just still feels kind of like I’m visiting at the moment.  
The buzzer signals that our food is here. I’m glad to be off the hook. I wasn’t looking for a serious discussion. Really, there isn’t anything to talk about. I really don’t think he’ll care if I change everything, not that I want to. As he gets the door, I get up and head for the kitchen for a couple of beers.  
“Plates at the table or eating from the cartons in front of the TV.?”   
“Whadda you wanna do?”  
We haven’t eaten at the table here since we got married. If we do, it will feel like our first meal in our home. I don’t feel ready.   
“TV.” I say to him bringing the beer into the living room. He puts the bags in front of me, then flips the TV. on and turns the volume up to the point where we can hear it but easily talk over it. I start pulling out cartons and chop-sticks.  
“What’s the package?” I ask him tilting my head toward the box.  
“I don’t know but it’s from the White House. Should I open it now?”  
“Yeah.”

He walks over to the desk and rummages around until he finds a letter opener, then splits the tape on the box. Once it’s open he lifts out a gift wrapped in sparkling white paper and tied with a satin bow.  
“Oh, it’s a wedding present! Do you want to open it he?” He asks me.   
“I got to do the last one. You should get a turn.”  
Josh unties the ribbon and puts it on my head playfully. I reach up and pull it off and gently roll it up. I’ll save it for later. He rips off the wrapping, then opens the top and pulls out a vase and sets it on the coffee table.  
I pick it up to look at it while he reads the card. He looks up and smiles at me.   
“It’s from the Bartlets.”  
Of course it is. It’s a heavy Waterford Crystal vase. One side is etched with the President’s seal. The other side is etched with “The Lymans- established 2006.”  
Suddenly, I feel better. Home is where Josh is. We’ll make it work.


	2. Chapter 2

I glance over at the clock. 5:32. I roll over and look at Donna, still asleep, and smile to myself. She’s really not a morning person. This is one of the things I’ve discovered about her in the last few weeks. She had me fooled for most of the last 8 years. She always beat me to the office and most days she called me in the morning to wake me up. I never told her that most days I had been up for at least an hour before her phone call and just acted sleepy so she would feel the need to call me the next day too. She never told me that it took at least 3 snooze alarms, an automated coffee maker and a pep talk to get herself awake enough to make the calls.

I brush the hair off her face and kiss her forehead. She scrunches up her nose adorably. I’m not really trying to wake her up yet. This is just her first warning that morning has arrived and the day awaits. Now that she has me, she doesn’t need the snooze button. I’ll put in a half hour on the treadmill before getting serious with her about getting out of bed.

At 6, I jump into the shower. I really like showering with Donna but there’s just not enough time for that on a Tuesday morning. As I’m getting out of the shower, I hear the coffee maker start. This automatic thing really is quite convenient. I smile to myself as I hang the towel on the hook. I hope she notices. 

When I walk back into the bedroom, I see that Donna is laying on her stomach now. Ugh. Do we have to go to work? I run my hand down the back of her head, then along her spine, over her ass and all the way down her leg pushing the blanket off her as I do. 

Donna mumbles something incoherent into the mattress and tries to reach for the comforter without opening her eyes. I lean over and whisper directly into her ear.   
“It’s time to get up.”   
I’m already up. The sight of my wife in a tank top and a pair of my boxers makes everything stand at attention. But we aren’t on vacation anymore and morning sex on a weekday isn’t very likely to become part of our routine given how she feels about waking up. I wonder how hard it would be to convert her into a morning person . I run my hand up and down the back of her thigh. She turns over and glares at me. Okay. Not so easy.

I smile at her. “Good morning. Come have some coffee?”

I head into the kitchen and pour us each a cup. Thank god non-dairy creamer doesn’t go bad. There’s not much else in the fridge. I suppose we’ll have to do some shopping later. The way Donna feels about getting up in the morning is the way I feel about shopping. It takes a lot of motivation.

Donna shuffles into the kitchen a few minutes later. I would have brought the coffee to her in bed, but having to get up to get it is an incentive. She sits across from me and blinks several times. She really is quite adorable. I grin at her while she takes a long drink. 

“What are you smiling about?” She finally speaks. I’ve discovered that trying to have a full conversation too early in the morning is not a good idea. It’s best to wait for her to start.  
“I just love you so much.” She rolls her eyes at me. God. She is so cute. She finishes her coffee and gets up. Then she walks around the table and gives me a kiss.  
“Gonna take a shower now.” I watch her leave the room. I’ve always been a morning person, but I’ve got to say, mornings with Donnatella Moss Lyman are worth getting up for.

While she’s in the shower, I call the florist. The local shop isn’t open yet, but the 1-800 number will make the arrangements. It’s our two week anniversary. Last week, we were traveling so I couldn’t have something delivered, but today I want an arrangement sitting on her desk. I wonder how many weeks in a row I could have flowers delivered before she pitched a fit? 

I’m still smiling as I get dressed. When she comes out of the shower, she’s in a much better mood. I’ve figured out that she’s not full awake and the day doesn’t really begin until after the shower.  
“Hey boss?” She calls over her shoulder playfully as she’s pulling on her pantyhose. “Can I leave early today?”  
“Ummm, what?” I was a little distracted there.  
“I said ‘can I leave early today?’ ”  
“Why?” I’m technically not her boss. Barry Goodwin is heading up the transition. He’s the one approving all the paychecks, although I’m sure his secretary is just signing off on them. Even so, now that I’m back in the office, everyone other than Matt is still treating me as the boss. For most of them that’s a good idea because in less than two months I will be. But not her, she’s going to be her own boss, only answering to the President and First Lady. I’m so proud of her.

“We need some food in the house. Remember? Basic needs. I thought I’d go grocery shopping and then make dinner for my man.”  
“That’s very 1950s of you.” She rolls her eyes.   
“Don’t get used to it. Grocery shopping is going to eventually be a weekend joint adventure.”  
“Okay.” I grimace slightly before offering “do you want me to go with you tonight?”  
“Nah. Helen and the kids are still in Houston. I should be able to leave the office around 5. Do you think you can be home by 8?”  
“I’ll do my best.” With Helen and the kids out of town, Matt might want to work late. But I’m pretty sure that if I mention it’s my anniversary, he’ll be okay with me leaving at 7:30 barring a national emergency.  
“That’s all I ask.” Donna smiles at me as she adjusts my tie and by 7 am we are walking out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

As we are driving into the office, I’m feeling pretty good. Josh went thru Starbucks to get bagels and more coffee, and we’ll still be there by 7:30.

In the two weeks we’ve been married, I’ve noticed a trend. Josh is awake before I am. He’s also relatively . . . cheerful. I am starting to suspect that he may actually be a morning person. I’m not exactly sure how I feel about that.

But it is nice not to have to hit the snooze button.

Once we arrive at the office, he leans over and gives me a kiss and then gets out of the car. I open my door and pop out of the car with my stuff just as he is coming around to my side. He’s frowning.

“I was going to open the door for you.”  
“How very 1950s of you.” I shoot back. See I was listening this morning. His brow wrinkles.  
“I thought you liked it on the honeymoon?”  
“Does this look like Hawaii to you?” He actually looks around and I laugh.

“Josh, I did like it on our honeymoon. And I’ll like it when we are going out to dinner. But at work I need to be professional. You wouldn’t open CJ’s car door if you gave her a ride, right?”  
“yeah, you’re right.”  
“Okay, then.” Aw, he looks a bit dejected, so I follow it with “I love you.” I really want to give him a kiss, but we kissed in the car and I think that should be the line. When we get out of the car, we are at work.  
“I love you too.”

I take his hand and we walk towards the door. I’m not planning on kissing him, but I can hold his hand, right? Once we are in the building Josh squeezes my hand and lets go. 

“See ya later.” He says as he strides toward his office. 

I walk over to my desk and take a seat. I spent most of yesterday working through a huge backlog of email. I guess I should have taken a page from Josh’s book and done some work over Thanksgiving. Word is out that I’m going to be FLOTUS-COS so I’m getting copied on every email that relates to Mrs. Santos or the children in anyway. I’m also still getting copied on a lot of general press questions relating to the campaign, transition and inauguration. And being a visible face for the campaign means that I’m also getting some crackpot emails just because they recognize my name. 

As I skim through them I sort them into three electronic folders: FLOTUS, GEN & CRACK. I star the ones I need to go back to. Yesterday Lou explained that they were current through Friday on the press emails, so I don’t need to worry about anything older than that unless it relates directly to Mrs. Santos or the kids. Figuring out who is handling what during the transition is kind of tricky. Right now its really just me, Lou and Annabeth handling the press. I hope Josh hires a Press Secretary soon.

“Donna Lyman?”  
“Moss Lyman” I correct automatically looking up from the computer. There’s a delivery guy standing in front of my desk with a huge arrangement. He looks back at his clipboard.  
“It just says ‘Donna Lyman, EEOB’ here.”  
“It’s fine. That’s me.” But now he’s over thinking it.  
“Do you have some id or something?” I roll my eyes and try not to get exasperated.  
“Are those from Josh Lyman?”  
“Well . . . I don’t know if I’m supposed to . . .” Ugh. Patience, Donna, patience.  
“Look.” I say pointing to my name plate, which still says ‘Donna Moss.’   
“I’m Donna. Exactly 2 weeks ago I married Josh Lyman. I’m pretty sure those are for me, from him, because he is man of occasion.” And also likes to show off, I think to myself.

While the kid stands there thinking about it for a minute, I reach into my wallet and pull out some money for a tip.  
“Give me the damn flowers.” I say shoving the money at him. He looks down at his hand and decides that he’s satisfied that he’s delivered them to the right place.

 

Great. These are taking up half my desk. The man just doesn't do reasonable, does he? I glare over at his office. His doors are still closed. I glance at the computer. 1:15. We both worked through lunch. I should probably stop and eat something. I might be just a little cranky.

“Those are gorgeous.” I hear Annabeth squeal behind me. “Are they from Josh?”  
I assume so, but I guess I should actually read the card. I pull the envelope out of the arrangement. There is a typed message on a pre-printed “Happy Anniversary” Card.

Donna-  
For a long time you were the reason I looked forward to coming to work. Now you are the reason I look forward to waking up.  
-love, Josh

Okay, he may be a bit ostentatious but he does have a way with words. I smile and turn to Annabeth. “  
Yes, it’s our two week anniversary.”  
“I think you got one of the good ones.” She sighs.  
Yeah, I did.

“So did you eat lunch yet?”  
“Yeah, I’m just getting back.”  
“Oh. Alright, I’m going to run over to the Mess and get a yogurt. I’ll be back in about 15 minutes.”


	4. Chapter 4

Lou and I’ve been meeting with possible Press Secretary Candidates all morning. Lester and Edie are both options but there are other places in the administration where we can use them, so we haven’t made a final determination. Lou also needs to figure out what she’s going to do with Otto. I smirk a little. I don’t envy her there. I’m not sure he’s entirely qualified to be either her deputy or the DPS but he is devoted to her and there is something to be said for that. 

“Do we have time for lunch before our next one?” I ask Lou. We are actually running quite a bit behind but I’m starving.  
“Ugh. Not really but let me see what I can do about that.” She opens my door and screams-  
“OTTO!!”  
He pops right up and jogs up to her. Like I said, devoted. Reminds me of someone I used to know.  
“Yeah?”  
“We need sustenance. Be a good boy and run over to the mess.” Boy. I hope I never talked to Donna like that. I hope if I did, she smacked me. I might have to have a little chat with Lou about this at some point. I guess we’ll just see where it goes.  
“I’ll have a Cobb Salad. Josh? What about you?”  
“Burger extra well-done and fries. Make sure its cooked all the way.”

Otto trots off to do Lou’s bidding before I remember to thank him. Oops. I’ll try to remember when he gets back. I get up and walk to the door to stretch my back. Donna’s desk is empty but her flowers are there. I grin to myself and walk over to see them.

“They’re gorgeous.” Annabeth tells me.  
“It’s our anniversary.”  
Annabeth smiles at me  
“Come on, Lyman. Stop mooning over the flowers.” Lou barks at me.  
Alright. Back to the grind. I hope that food gets here soon. And I hope the burger is done.


	5. Chapter 5

I’m sitting in the mess, eating my yogurt and making a shopping list when Otto scurries in. Once I hear him order, I know that Josh is getting lunch. A part of me wants to get up and make sure that Otto gets it right. But another part of me is saying ‘not your job.’ Well at least not while we are in this building. It’s kind of a tough thing to navigate. This desire to be professional, while at the same time wanting to make sure Josh is taken care of and knowing that I’m the best at it.

I go back to my list. I’ve decided to make BBQ Chicken tonight. I looked for “easy chicken recipes” earlier but they didn’t look like things Josh would eat and they didn’t look very easy. He likes BBQ chicken. I figure I can handle this- put some BBQ Sauce on some skinless, boneless chicken and bake it. Add baked potatoes and a salad. Instant meal, right?

A few minutes later Otto flops down at the table.   
“You did this for 8 years?”  
I blush and nod slightly. See that’s the problem. People only seem to remember that I got his burgers the way he liked them. They never say ‘so you researched legislation and participated in budget negotiations?’ Except Josh. Josh remembers. I smile to myself. That’s why I married him. To hell with everyone else. 

I start to get up, but then Otto says-  
“Donna, will Lou ever see me as anything more?” Whoa. I thought we were talking about Josh. I may need to back up. I sit back down.  
“It was Lou that sent you here?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Oh. That’s a tough one. I don’t know Lou well enough. I don’t know you well enough. I guess the only advice I can give you is to fight for the job you want. Figure out how to be valuable and grow in it. Hang on for all your worth, and when its time to move on do it. For the love part, you’re on your own. You probably shouldn’t take advice from me on that anyway.”

They call Otto’s name and he gets up to get their food. Dang it! I want to let him walk away but I just can’t.  
“Letmesee”   
He gives me the bag and I check Josh’s burger. It’s fine. I would be fine no matter what. I mean the Mess isn’t going to serve something that will make him sick. But he is working hard and I want him to eat. And I want him to be happy. I won’t always be able to do this. But today I can.  
“Don’t tell him I checked it. Understand?”  
Otto nods and we walk back to the EEOB together. Once we get there I send him in first. This is his deal. He needs to navigate it on his own.

Once I get back to my desk, Josh’s door is closed and Otto is seated at his own desk. I look at the flowers and sigh. Maybe I should tell him not to send me flowers at work, at least during transition. I’m still trying to be seen for myself and these are like a neon sign announcing “Josh’s” with arrows pointing at me.

I spend the next two hours finishing off the emails. Annabeth and I work out which of us will respond to the remaining queries, subject to Lou’s approval. I also have a list of discussion points for a phone call with Helen. I send her an email asking if we can talk sometime tomorrow. I don’t know how often she checks her email, so I copy the President-Elect and Josh on it as well. It’s mostly items that I don’t think they’ll care about but there are a couple that could eventually lead to some sort of policy initiative so its better to keep them in the loop. Plus I just want them to see what I’m doing just in case I’m doing it all wrong. If I don’t hear back from her by lunchtime tomorrow, I’ll ask the President-Elect if I should call her or just wait until she’s back in DC. I’m not even sure when that will be. It’s almost Five so I’ll just save the Crackpots for tomorrow. I’m sure there’s nothing in there that’s important.

I’ve got my shopping list. I’ve got the car keys and the Foggy Bottom Grocery is on the way home. Well, sort of. It’s really very close. Somewhere near GW. I have a map. I can do this. I leave Josh a note- 

[Gone shopping. Took the Car. Call me if you aren’t going to be home by 8. Love, Donna  
P.S. Thanks for the flowers. Bring half of them home.]


	6. Chapter 6

Lou and I finish up the last interview at 5:30. Ronna motions us into the President-Elect’s office with a “he said to just come in when you were done.”  
So we knock and walk in. Turns out Barry had some place to be tonight and the President-Elect wants to spend the night reading Kazakhstan briefing papers. Since Lou and I are both kind of fried, we chat for a few minutes but decide to just wait until the morning meeting to go over all this. Looks like I’m going to be out of here at 6!

I get to Donna’s desk and discover her note. After I decipher it, I hold it up and say to Lou-  
“Looks like my wife and my car are gone.”  
“She lasted longer than I expected.” Lou deadpans.   
“No kidding.” I respond.

I walk back into my office and put my laptop along with half of the files from today’s interviews in my backpack. These are my top 4 candidates. I may want to review them after dinner tonight. As I’m passing Donna’s desk on on my way out of the office, I glance at the flowers. Why does she want me to bring half of them home? It’s a nice arrangement, why split it? I’ll just stop and get her more flowers on the way.

I’m almost out the door when I stop myself. If I grab half those flowers, I will (a) have followed instructions and (b) get home to her faster. I walk back to her desk and grab a handful. Traffic is such a nightmare at 6 that I consider just walking, but there is a cab waiting as I exit the building so I hop in.

“Honey, I’m home!” I sing as I walk through the door at 6:30. It quickly registers that the apartment is dark and quiet. Donna left work at least an hour before I did. Where is she? I drop the backpack near the door. O.k. what to do with these flowers? Oh yeah. The vase from the Barlets. I stick the flowers in it, add some water and leave it on the table in the kitchen. Then I head for the bedroom. 

Might as well get comfortable. I toss my suit on the bed and slip into my favorite sweats. On the way back through the kitchen I grab a beer from the fridge. I guess I’ll do some work. I grab my back pack and head towards the dining room table, pulling out my laptop. The table already has a bunch of files on it. There is just room enough at the end for my laptop. I slowly turn around the room. The desk is kind of overflowing, the treadmill has dry-cleaning hanging from it and there are stacks of files on the chair and next to the couch in the living room. 

Normally, I straighten up on Thursday night or Friday morning before the cleaning service. I switched to every other week during the campaign since I wasn’t home much. I didn’t have time before we left for the vacation and the service was off last week, so this is getting close to a month’s worth of clutter. No wonder Donna felt overwhelmed last night. 

I’m a pro at the fast sweep to get the apartment ready for company. Time to employ that skill. First, I grab the clothes off the treadmill and take them to the bedroom closet. At least the kitchen’s clean, I think as I zip back through it. Take-out doesn’t make that much of a mess and Donna cleaned up after dinner last night. She’s pretty much a neat freak. 

Back in the living room, I grab the files off the chair and floor. These are all campaign financials. I can stick them in a box in the guest bedroom. The files on the dining room table are a mixture of campaign financials, policy initiatives and possible candidates for various positions in the administration. Getting these files organized is going to take more time than I have right now but I can at least get this table cleared off. I start to stack them on the floor by the desk, but change my mind. I’ll stick them on the bed in the guest room for now. 

Once the table is cleared, I grab the vase and stick it in the middle. I look around the room, other than the overflowing desk, not bad. I glance at my watch it’s almost 7:15. Should I start on the desk? I hate cleaning off my desk. Donna is so much better at it than I am. I’ll just leave it. I flip on CNN and flop down on the couch.

7:30. Where is Donna?


	7. Chapter 7

I circle the block again looking for a spot near the Brownstone. I think I can squeeze in between the driveway and that fire hydrant. Once I’m parked. I stop for a minute and take a deep breath. My hands are shaking a little. This has been a nightmare.

It took me almost 45 minutes just to get into the grocery. The roads by GW are all one ways and traffic was terrible when I left at 5. I live on the other side of town. I usually took the Metro, but even when I drove by the time we usually left the White House traffic wasn’t that bad. Once I was in the store I tried to be fast. But it seems like we need everything! It just made more sense to walk up and down each aisle. Then, I was stressed about what to buy. I needed more shampoo and conditioner, but what about Josh? Does he have enough of his own? Will he use mine? While I was in that section, I remembered that I don’t have any feminine products at Josh’s apartment. Going to need those soon. The actual groceries weren’t that much easier. I have my list for tonight: chicken, potatoes, lettuce. But we needed all the basics too: bread, cheese, eggs, milk, yogurt. Plus, what am I going to make for dinner tomorrow, and the next night and the rest of our lives?!? After an hour, I had a hard time remembering why I objected to take-out every night. I only ended up with 4 bags. One with the bathroom supplies, one with dinner for tonight, which now I don’t even know if we have time to make, a bag with the basics and a bag with 6 lean cuisine. At least I can manage them all in one trip.

I stumble through the door and Josh hollers from the couch-  
“Where the hell have ya been?”  
I stop in my tracks and start to cry.


	8. Chapter 8

I hear Donna come through the door and call out a friendly-“Where the hell have ya been?” as I get up to help her.

She’s standing just inside the door and tears are streaming down her face. I rush over to her.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”  
“You . . . cleaned.” She hiccups. Okay. This is not the reaction I was expecting. Did I screw something up?   
“Not really.” I admit.   
“I just cleared the table and moved the files into the guest room. I’m going to have to go through them at some point. You might not want to go in there any time soon.”  
“And you brought the flowers and put them in the vase.” She beams at me. Okay. I think these are happy tears. I’m glad I followed the instructions on the flowers.

Donna sets the bags down and takes off her coat and hangs it up on the coat tree. Then she picks up two of the bags, and heads toward the kitchen. I pick up the other two and follow her.

“The traffic over here is a nightmare. I got confused over by GW trying to get to the grocery. Here, put these away.” She hands me one of her bags and takes the two I’m still holding. While I’m putting stuff in the fridge, she takes two potatoes out of one of the bags and washes them off. Then she stabs them with a knife and puts them in the microwave and sets it going for 12 minutes.

When I’m done she hands me another bag.   
“Bathroom stuff” is all she says. I take the hint and carry it into the bathroom. I start to just set the bag down, when it occurs to me that maybe I should put these things away. She’s been using hotel size shampoo and conditioner for the last two weeks. I flip open the one of the new bottles and take a sniff. I smile to myself, then put them in the shower. I like the way her full size products look in my, I mean, our bathroom. I pull the rest of the stuff out of the bag. Some deodorant, disposable razors and a blue box. Oh. That’s not something I’ve given a lot of thought about. I wonder if the tears have anything to do with that. Maybe I should ask? No. I don’t think I will.

I walk back into the kitchen. She’s smiling and singing along with the radio while she’s putting some BBQ Sauce on chicken. Chicken makes me a little nervous. I like it but it’s got to be fully cooked. Does she know what she’s doing? She slides the pan into the oven and then turns around. The look on my face must be obvious because she says-

“Relax, Josh. 30 minutes. It will be fine.”  
She goes back over to the sink and washes her hands again. Then she pulls out a glass bowl and starts putting a salad together. She hands me a small tomato.  
“Cut half of this up, please.” I do as I’m told. She’s slicing some cucumber. She adds both to the bowl, then sprinkles some shredded cheese on it and adds some croutons.  
When she’s done it looks a lot like the garden salads she usually orders. She puts all the ingredients back into the refrigerator and wipes the table off.

The microwave beeps and she pulls the potatoes out with a towel. She gives them each a little squeeze then frowns and sticks them back in.  
“I’m going to go change.” She announces.  
“Aren’t you going to start the microwave again?” I ask her.  
“Nah, the chicken still has 20 minutes. The potatoes can wait.” She walks into the bedroom and I follow her. I’m not going to miss the opportunity to watch her change her clothes.


	9. Chapter 9

As I take off my jacket and hang it in the closet, Josh climbs on the bed and settles in to watch me. He has been following me around like a puppy ever since I got home. The tears always throw him for a loop. I haven’t really cried in front of him except for one that one time. But even watery eyes make him slightly panicky. He naturally assumes that actual tears rolling down my cheeks are a problem that must be fixed. He is, by nature, a compulsive fixer.

He’s starting to understand happy tears a little better. But even then he prefers to deal with them by wrapping me in a hug and not letting go until they are gone. God. I love him.

Coming home to a clean, well, clean-er, apartment was such a happy surprise after the stress of shopping. I don’t really want to tell Josh this, but, being a wife scares the crap out of me. The last time I tried to “play house” it didn’t work out very well. The whole time I was shopping, I was getting that overwhelmed feeling that I get when I desperately want to make something work but I’m not sure I can. Coming home to find out that he was making an effort too completely changed how I was feeling. We are in this together. We might not get it all right, but we will be okay.

I look over at Josh and smile. I’ve been kind of in my own head here for a little bit, but we have enough time for me to put on a little show for him. I maintain eye contact with him while I unzip my skirt and take it off. Then I turn around and hang it up with the jacket. I turn back towards him and slowly unbutton my blouse, giving him just a glimpse of my lace bra before I walk over to the hamper. I keep my back to him as I slip the shirt off and put it in the basket. Without turning around I bend over as I slowly remove my pantyhose. I smile to myself as I hear him groan. Normally I’d take my bra off too. But he’s been a good boy. He deserves to get to take it off me. 

As I walk over to his dresser, I say   
“See how pleasant putting your clothes away can be?” Then I pull my favorite Yale Law hoodie out of the bottom drawer and put it on. I walk over to my suitcase and grab some flannel pajama pants. I smile at him while I put them, saying “It’s time to set the table” as I walk out of the bedroom.


	10. Chapter 10

I have a better idea of what we should do with the table. I get up and follow her out of the room. Her back is to me as she reaches up to get plates out of the cupboard. I come up behind her and take both her wrists in my hand keeping them above her head, while trap her against the counter. I wrap the other arm around her waist grasping her hip and pulling her ass tight into me. I lean down and take her earlobe into my mouth sucking gently for a moment before whispering “you are a mean, mean woman.”

I let go and then bump her aside a bit with my hip, while I get the plates down. She’s still standing there biting her lip while I get silverware out of the drawer. I smirk at her and raise an eyebrow as I walk into the other room with the plates and silverware. Game on.

When I walk back into the kitchen, the microwave is going again. There’s butter, sour cream, shredded cheese and dressing out on the counter. She’s bending over pulling the chicken out of the oven. I narrow my eyes. I can’t quite tell if she’s teasing me again or if that’s really how she has to do it. Anyway, I’m not going to play with her while she’s taking something out of the oven. She could get burned.

She puts the pan of chicken on a trivet on the counter. Then sprinkles some cheese over the chicken. The microwave beeps and she pulls the potatoes out.  
“Can you get us some beer?” She asks. “And when you take it in there can you bring the plates back, I’m just going to put the food on them in here.”  
“Okay”  
When I come back into the kitchen with the plates, she puts a piece of chicken on each plate. She’s sliced the potatoes and fluffed them up somehow. They look like they do when you get them at a restaurant. She puts one each plate.  
“Butter and Sour Cream?” She inquires.  
“Sure.”  
“Can you take these into the dining room for me?” She asks sweetly handing me our plates. “I’ll bring the salad.”

I take the food in and sit down. Candles would be nice. I don’t think I have any. I should get some. Maybe a nice pair of candlesticks would be a good Christmas present for her. A few minutes later she walks into the room.

The sweatshirt and pajama pants are gone. She’s wearing one of my Harvard t-shirts. It’s so old and so thin I can practically see the black lace bra through it. The hem of the shirt barely hits the tops of her thighs. She leans across me to set the salad on the table and the shirt rides up revealing her black lace cheeky panties. 

“You changed?” I manage to groan as I palm her ass.  
“I was too hot.” She grins as she takes her seat. “Ready to eat?”

Donna-3; Josh-1 But you know what, I don’t think I’m going to mind losing this game.


	11. Chapter 11

Josh wakes me up by tickling my ribs. One of these days he’s going to get hurt trying that crap. I curl up in a ball and say “goaway.”  
He kisses the top of my head and whispers “I made breakfast for you” in my ear.  
I open one eye. He’s grinning at me. How the hell can he be so damn happy at 6:15? I glare at him and he bounces out of the room.

I inhale deeply. Come on Donna. You can do this. You have a great job. People need you. The President-Elect needs you. Josh . . . See that’s part of the problem right there. For most of the last 9 years, the thought that Josh needed me and that if I got up I’d get to see Josh, is what got me out of bed in the morning. Now, I get to see Josh every morning and if I play my cards right, he’ll join me in bed and show me exactly how much he needs me. My incentive is gone.

“If you don’t get your SKINNY ASS out of bed in 5 minutes, I’m leaving without you!” Josh bellows from the kitchen. Okay- maybe I’ve found new motivation. An angry husband and having to walk to work doesn’t sound like a very fun way to start the day. I haven’t mentioned it to Josh but my car is getting to the point where it doesn’t feel safe to drive it. But, I don't really want to buy a second car if we don't need one. I'm still not used to the idea that money may not be an issue anymore. Plus I'm not sure I'm up for car shopping with Josh.

I shuffle into the kitchen to find Josh smirking at me but holding coffee and a bagel with cream cheese. I take the coffee in my hands and inhale deeply, then I take a long drink. I sit down at the table and eat half the bagel while finishing the coffee. Ah. That’s better. I get up and kiss Josh’s cheek.  
“Thank you. I’m going to go get a shower. Please don’t leave without me.”  
“Okay.”

As we’re leaving the Brownstone, I see something attached to the windshield of his car. Shit. I bet it’s a parking ticket. I wonder if I can get it off without him noticing.

“DONNA!!” I guess not.

I pull the ticket out from under the wiper. $100 for parking too close to the hydrant plus $20 for parking more than 12 inches from the curb. Crap. He’s holding out his hand for the ticket, while tapping one foot. I hand it to him and quickly get in the car and buckle my seatbelt.

“What did I tell you about learning that ‘no parking means no parking?” He asks as he starts the car and pulls away from the curb. He's using that voice that makes my ovaries feel like they are going to explode. I glance over at him. Is he really mad at me?

“I couldn’t find a spot.” I say in a tiny voice, batting my eyes at him.  
“You are so naughty.” He says sternly. When he pulls up to a stop light, he turns and looks at me.  
“You know I’m going have to punish you for this?” He's barely containing his smirk now.

“Tonight?” I ask with a pout, wringing my hands and trying to look worried.

“Definitely. You are in so much trouble.”Then he loses the battle with his face and grins at me. I grin back. This is one of our favorite games.

By the time we are done “discussing” the parking ticket, we are at the EEOB. As soon as he puts the car in park, I lean over and give Josh a long kiss.  
“I’m looking forward to tonight.” I whisper huskily. I leave him sitting there as I grab my briefcase, get out of the car and head into the office. 

When I get to my desk, I re-arrange the bouqet of flowers. It looks like he just grabbed a bunch of them indiscriminately. This size of bouquet looks a lot more reasonable. It says “nice gesture” instead of “ownership.” Josh smiles at me as he breezezs by on the way to his office. When I’m done fussing with the flowers, I sit down to the never ending email.

My process seems to be working pretty well. I skim through them adding quite a few to the crackpots folder, including one that I decide to star. I’ll have to come back to these after lunch. There are several press inquiries relating to the first lady so I’ll definitely be handling those. I forward the email with my thoughts to Annabeth and Lou and let them know that I’ll be having a discussion with Helen soon if they want to weigh in. I also have a few more discussion points for my conversation with Helen, so I send her a second email with the additional information. I really hope she gets back to me soon.


	12. Chapter 12

I had to sit in the car for a few minutes before I could walk into the office. Donna and I have always liked to banter. I admit that during the Bartlet Administration sometimes our teasing pushed the envelope of what was appropriate for the workplace. Now that we can actually act on it, we’ve taken it to a whole new level. But it’s still fun to tease about things we won’t actually do. She knows that I’d never actually punish her. But pretending that she’s a naughty girl and that I’m going to sure does get us both hot and bothered.

I sit down at my desk and pull out the ticket. Unfortunately, it’s not pretend. I might as well pay it online right now. She does have a track record of getting parking tickets. If we are going to keep her car, we’re going to need a second spot. Parking is a premium around the Brownstone. This probably is something we need to talk about tonight. I think we should get rid of her car. It’so old. We don’t really need two. On the other hand, she’s the one giving up so much of her life, I don’t want to push her if she’s attached to it, as long as its safe. I wonder if she’s kept up on the regular maintenance. If she wants her own car, I could just get her a new one. Maybe something sporty? Surprise her with a big red bow on top? 

As I’m finishing up online, Lou knocks on the door.   
“Hey, you ready to go over this stuff?”  
“Yeah, come in.” She takes a seat at the table and I join her there. Lou has an instinct for putting herself on equal footing. For as much as we butt heads sometimes, I’m really glad she’s going to be part of this team.  
“So do you have a top four?” I ask her.  
“Yep.”   
“Does that include Edie and Lester?”  
“Yes.”  
We talk about the other two for a few minutes. I’m glad that Lou and I agree on the top four. This puts us in a good place to have a discussion with the President-Elect. It’s hard to tell how strongly he’s going to feel about this.

“So, Josh, I have been thinking about Otto a lot.”  
“Hey, I don’t want to hear about your fantasies!” She gives me an evil look.  
“Well, there’s this one where he’s dressed like . . .”  
I stick my fingers in my ears and chant. “lalalalalalala.” I stop when she stops talking and starts smirking at me.  
“Sorry. You totally deserved that.”  
“You’re right. Anyway, I assume we are about to talk about Otto’s position, err, job with this administration.”  
“I want to put him in the speechwriting pool. He’s a good writer but he doesn’t really have the experience to be my deputy. And frankly, I don’t think having him right next door to me would be the best thing for either of us. I’m not looking for a relationship with him and he needs to get over the campaign fling.”

“Okay. So do you have a deputy in mind?”  
“I’d like Edie. She and I work well together. But she’d be a good Press Secretary too. Let’s see what the President-Elect thinks of our top four. Really between these, I think we’ve got my deputy, a Press Secretary and a DPS. Do you agree?”  
“Yes.”  
“Okay great. Hopefully we can get this wrapped up this week.”  
“That would be good. Then we can get Donna and Annabeth focused solely on the First Lady rather than trying to juggle both.”

My phone rings and I pick it up.  
“Yes, sir. Lou is here. We’ll be right in.”


	13. Chapter 13

When Josh and Lou come out of the President-Elect’s office they are smiling. That’s a good sign. I hope that it means good news for me and Annabeth. Josh comes up to my desk.

“Are you available to join me for lunch?”  
I like that he asked. That sounded very professional.  
“Yes, I am.”  
“Would you like to join me for lunch?”  
“Absolutely.”

Once we are sitting in the mess, things feel both very normal and a bit unusual. The food is the same as it always is. He’s eating a burger, and we are sharing a salad and fries. Sitting in the mess doing it is a little odd. We very rarely ate here. We both preferred Josh’s office whenever we had a chance to eat together. We also rarely had lunch together. He usually had meetings. This is nice.

“I paid your parking ticket online.”  
“I really am sorry. I was kind of flustered last night. I should have known better.”  
“I am glad that you parked close to the door and didn’t walk several blocks. The fine is not a big deal, but too close to a hydrant could get the car towed. You should have called me so I could have come out and parked it somewhere else.”   
“I didn’t think of that.” I really should have thought of it. He’s always done anything he can to help me. I’m just not used to asking for any help.  
“So here’s the thing, if we are going to have two cars we probably need a second spot. I’m not really sure we need two cars, but it’s up to you.”

Well, I guess this car conversation is going to happen sooner than I expected. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet. I love my car. That car was my first act of independence. I worked really hard the summer after my first year of college and saved all my money for the down payment. My Dad co-signed the loan, but I made all the payments myself. Five years later, that’s the car I started my life over in. It’s the car that brought me to Josh. The problem is now the car is almost 15 years old.

“I don’t know.” I whisper.  
“Let’s talk it out.” Josh says. So I tell him about how I feel about the car.  
“Well, as much as I am grateful for the car bringing you to me, I’m not sure we should keep it out of loyalty’s sake. How does it run?”

I look away. How honest should I be here?   
“Donna?” His voice has that warning tone that it gets when he senses that I’m about to be evasive in my answer.  
“Um, it usually starts fine.”  
“Usually?”  
“Sometimes the steering wheel shakes if I’m going too fast.”   
He narrows his eyes at me. “How fast?”  
“Um, I’m not really sure. The speedometer doesn’t actually work.” 

He closes his eyes and they flutter a little bit, the way they do when he’s trying to hold onto his self-control. While he’s doing that, I contemplate whether to tell him the last bit. On one hand, we are in public so he might not yell as much, on the other hand we are in public and I don’t really like to get yelled at in public at all. But if I don’t tell him now he’s probably going to find out later, and that’s probably worse.

“Then, there’s the brakes.”  
“What about the brakes?” He asks with a dangerous glint in his eyes.  
“I just always give myself extra stopping room.”

“YOU’VE BEEN DRIVING A CAR WITH BAD BRAKES?!!?”


	14. Chapter 14

Her eyes get wide and I immediately feel bad. I shouldn’t have yelled. 

“I don’t drive it that much.” She whispers. I take her hand gently.  
“You won’t be driving it at all anymore.” I declare firmly. I might feel bad about yelling but she’s crazy if she thinks I’m letting her drive the car.

She gets a little glint in her eye. I recognize that look. It’s the ‘I’m about to get stubborn’ look. 

“Donna.” I say her name even more firmly. You know, what I’m the husband. I have rights, don’t I? She crosses her arms in front of her and glares at me. I think its a good thing we are in public or this would be our first fight. I take a deep breath and let it out.

“Donnatella,” I say, in what I hope is a more appealing tone, “please don’t fight me on this. There is no reason for you to be driving an unsafe vehicle. God. If something happened to you.” I let out a shaky breath. “If you are really attached to the car, we’ll get it completely repaired, but I really, really don’t want you driving it until then. Please.”

She relaxes too. “No, you’re right.” She looks a little sheepish and goes on “I was actually just thinking this morning, when you threatened to leave without me,” she gives me a pointed look, “that I really shouldn’t drive it. Not having to walk to work is actually what got me out of bed.”

I want to kiss her so bad right now. Instead, I just smile at her.  
“God. Donna, you are a handful.”  
“Bromide?” She suggests sweetly, reminding me of a conversation about a 100 years ago book.  
“HELL NO!” I quickly respond.

She grins back at me. She knows she’s got me.

“Here’s a little tip, don’t go all Caveman on me and tell me what to do. We almost had a fight because we both think my car’s too unsafe for me to drive.”  
Huh. I don't really see how wanting to keep her safe makes me a caveman. I like to think of myself as an enlightened, liberal man, even if I sort of did just boss her around. I don't even get why we are fighting about whether or not I should allow her to drive an unsafe car.

 

“I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to you. I don’t even like to think about the fact that something could have happened to you even if it didn’t.”  
“I’m surprised you let me out of your sight.” She says slightly exasperated.  
“You have no idea.” I respond honestly and I see her melt just a little.

“So, I’m going to try this again, non-caveman style, what would you like to do about your car?”  
“I don’t know.” She says softly. I can tell the practical side is at war with the sentimental side. Then she gets a little sassy- “You know, you could just tell me what to do.”  
“Nice try, Lulu.”   
“It’s just a car, right?” I smile gently at her. I can see the practical side is going to win out. But, God, I do love her sentimentality.  
“I can’t keep it forever. It would be a waste of money to fix it.”  
“It wouldn’t be a waste of money if it made you happy.” I really do mean it. There is no way she’s driving that car again unless it gets a complete over-haul, but I’d do it to make her happy.  
“Being with you makes me happy. It’s time to get rid of the car.”  
“Okay. We'll take care of it this weekend." By take care of it, I mean call some charity to come tow the thing away. Neither of us is driving it anywhere.


	15. Chapter 15

I can't believe we almost had our first married couple fight over something we agree on. Well, I guess I can. The twinges in my lower back tell me that I'm going to be needing those feminine products I picked up. And during this time of the month, I have a lower tolerance for patronizing remarks. I love Josh, but he's going to have to realize he can't just boss me around. If he really stopped and thought about it he'd realize that even the whole time I worked for him, I never really did anything that I didn't want to do.  
When I get back to my desk, I'm relieved to see an email from Helen. She is flying back to Washington with the children Friday after school. If everything can wait until then she'd like to meet in person. Perhaps Josh and I would like to join them for lunch on Saturday? I check my notes to be sure, but at this point there is nothing urgent for the future First Lady. I respond to her and let her know that we'd love to join them. I copy the President-Elect, Josh and Ronna, since it doesn't appear that Helen did when she responded to me, and its probably unlikely that she checked with Ronna to make sure the President-Elect was open for lunch on Saturday. This is something I'm probably going to have to keep my eye on. I know that Helen wants to have as much of a normal life as possible, but she's just not normal anymore.  
I am really glad she's going to be here this weekend, but it does put a little damper in the plans to get stuff from my old apartment. I figured we'd do it sometime this weekend. But now I want to be available to Helen all weekend. I'd like Josh to help me but I know he's not going to want to take time off during the week, and even weeknights are sort of difficult to pre-plan. I guess I'll just call Janice and let her know I'd like to come over sometime this week, but I don't know exactly when. Hopefully she's okay with me just calling a few minutes before I stop by. She doesn't really have to be there. I still have a key. But it's her place now.  
I finish everything in the inbox and decide to tackle the Crackpots folder. Mostly its well-wishes from people from fringe organizations trying to get their cause on the President-Elect's radar. The "Big Block of Cheese" people. I'll save those in a sub-folder in case Josh wants to carry on the tradition. I'll also ask him if and how to respond to them now.  
There are a few emails in this folder that aren't really "Big Block of Cheese" people because they don't have an organization or cause they seem to be promoting. I just filed them in the crackpot folder because I didn't want to deal with them right away. Some of them I'm not sure exactly what to do. I know what to do with the Press Inquires, I know what to do with general well-wishes from average citizens to the future first family. I even mostly know what to do with the Big Block of Cheese people. What I don't know is what to do with an email, addressed to me, that just says: "I hope you wear a red dress to the ball." I don't know the sender and even though it's odd, it's not a threat, so no need to send it to the secret service. I guess I need another file folder: WEIRD. I just put it in there and move on.  
Speaking of balls and dresses, I do need to find one. Maybe even two. Helen has already told me that she's not changing 9 times. I agree that's excessive. But if she finds more than one dress she really likes there is some precedent for a change of clothes. Truthfully, I don't see her doing it, but if she does, I will too, so I'd like to be prepared. Plus, my gowns were all bought used and I've worn them each more than once. I'd really like to surprise Josh with something he hasn't seen. One of the items on my agenda for Helen for the weekend is shopping. But, in the comfort of Blair House. I need to make arrangements to have some designers come in with samples.  
Once I'm done with that, I think I've really done all I can for the day. It's after 6 but Josh is still meeting with the President-Elect. We should have had a discussion at lunch about how late he thought he'd be, and whether I should head home on my own and start dinner. After last night's traffic debacle, I have no desire to take the car at this time of day. It's about a 20 minute walk, but the Midol that I took earlier hasn't fully kicked in yet, and I really don't feel up for a walk. I guess I'll wait until 7ish and see if he finishes up by then. In the meantime, I can work on making a list of what to get from my old apartment. I do love lists.


	16. Chapter 16

“Josh, is there anything we need to talk about that can’t wait until tomorrow?” I glance at my watch. It’s 7:05. I look at my list. There are still a lot of jobs to fill, but we still have almost 8 weeks. There’s only so much we can do about Kahzakstan right now. It’s transition- lots to be done but no real power yet.  
“No, I guess not.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say there is someone waiting for you just outside those doors, isn’t there?”  
I smile to myself. We did’t talk about whether or not she’d head home without me. But if I had to guess, she’s waiting for me.  
“Probably. Yesterday, she took the car home on her own and she didn’t enjoy the experience.” That’s not really true, I think to myself. She’s not waiting for me because of bad traffic. She’s waiting because she wants to be where I am, to spend every moment she can with me. And the reason I know that is because I feel the same way about her. Every fiber of my being wants her to be just outside the doors to this office so that we can have 10 extra minutes of togetherness.

The President-Elect smiles at me in a knowing way. He’s not buying my bad traffic answer either. He studies me for a minute. I can see he’s debating whether or not to give me a lecture. The last President I worked for wouldn’t have debated it.

“I know you are an incredibly hard worker. You don’t have to impress me. This is a never-ending job. There will always be more that we could do. But there will always only be 24 hours in a day. We can’t spend all of them working. You are going to have to learn to pace yourself. Spending time with your family is important. Being a good husband, and hopefully eventually a good father, that is a noble pursuit. Now, take your beautiful wife home. That’s an order.”  
“Yes, sir.”

When I leave the President-Elect’s office I see Donna at her desk. I stop to stare for a minute. Her head is down on her arms. That’s kind of odd. It’s only 7:15. Pretty early in the night for her to be wiped out. There weren’t many times in the Bartlet Administration that I’d find her asleep at her desk. I didn’t generally keep her past 10 unless we were working on something where I really needed her. Well, that’s not quite true, I often kept her just for her company but when I did, I didn’t leave her out at her desk. She’d be in the office with me, sparring with me, or cajoling me, or just giving me a reason to keep trying to make the world a better place. Unless she wasn’t feeling well, she was the energizer bunny until late into the night. OH! Is she ill?

I walk quietly to her desk. I expect her head to pop up any second and make some wise-ass remark but it doesn’t. I put my hand on the back of her head and run it slowly down her back.  
“That feels nice.” She says softly. She opened her eyes to look at me but didn’t really move. My hand is still on her back when she squeezes her eyes shut and I feel her shoulder and back muscles tense for a few seconds. What the hell is happening here?

She takes a deep breath and pushes herself up so that she’s sitting upright again. She gives me a small smile and says “Ready to go home?”  
“Yes. Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine.” She gives me another small smile and gets up with the smallest of a wince. Something clicks and I realize I have seen her like this before. She’s in pain and she doesn’t want me to know.

“Donna?” I put on hands gently on her arms to stop her from moving and look right into her eyes. “What’s wrong?”  
Her face turns kind of red and her eyes drop. Then she mumbles.  
“MybackkindofhurtsbutitsnotabigdealIjuststartedmyperiodthat’sall.”  
It takes a second for my brain to process what she said, but then I feel relief. She’s not dying. That’s good. 

I kiss her gently on the mouth and say “I’m sorry” then I wrap her in my arms. She puts her head on my chest and sighs while I softly rub her lower back. Apparently she’s a little embarassed to tell me. I smile to myself, it’s not like I wasn’t going to figure it out. We share a bed and a bathroom. 

Hopefully she isn't upset that I broke our no kissing in the office rule. Amy was a raging shrew during that time of the month, but I kind of figured it was just Amy. I haven't had many long term relationships to compare, but I figure that most women must handle it just fine. I worked closely with a lot of women over the last decade and I really never knew what was going on with their bodies, which tells me Amy's reaction was mostly just Amy. Thinking about it a little more I realize that, of course, I must have dealt with Donna during her periods too. Maybe if I was tracking it or something I would have noticed some sort of timing to a bit more moodiness or maybe an increased need for chocolate- actually there might be something to that chocolate thing- but I really can't say that I ever would have guessed the reason. Women are amazing creatures, and Donna is the most amazing of them all. I just want to know her in every way possible but if she doesn't want to talk about this it's fine. I'll just stand here and rub her back for as long as she wants.  
A few minutes later, the President-Elect comes out of his office. He stops when he sees us and just smiles at me. He's been a husband for 15 years. He may not know why but he knows when its a good idea to just keep quiet. He walks by without saying anything. If I've had any doubts about him at all during the last months, the are quelled by his actions just now. The future leader of the free world is a very smart man and a very considerate one.  
As the door clicks shut behind him, Donna sighs, opens her eyes, and pulls away a bit then says "Let's go home." I kiss the top of her head and let go of her.  
"Okay."


	17. Chapter 17

On the way home Josh just sort of rambles on about how the staffing is going. He’s not really looking for any input just filling the silence. He’s been really sweet since our odd little moment in the office. This is one of those areas that dating let’s you sort of ease into at a slower pace. We haven’t had that. I’m sure eventually this won’t feel like a big deal to me. 

Traffic is so much better at 7:30 that we are in Georgetown in just a few minutes. Josh pulls up in front of his favorite deli. “Soup and sandwiches okay for tonight?”  
“Sounds perfect.” I’m so glad he isn’t holding me to my home-cooked meal plan. I really just want a little food, a fuzzy blanket and a movie. I tilt my head back against the seat and close my eyes.  
“Why don’t you just stay here. I’ll run in and get it.” I’m sure that “it” is his favorite Matzah Ball Soup and Corned Beef Sandwich. We’ve shared this meal plenty of times.  
“Thanks.” I say without even opening my eyes.

It’s not long before Josh is back in the car. He hands me the brown bag with our food and another small bag. It’s cold. He’s smiling. I open the bag and see a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy. I love this man. I lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek.   
“You are a good man, Joshua Lyman.” He grins at me and pulls away from the curb.

Once we are back at the apartment, he’s still in “I’ll take care of you” mode. He takes the bags into the kitchen, while I head into the bedroom to put comfy clothes on. By the time I’m back out to the living room, the food is on the coffee table, my favorite fuzzy blanket is on the back of the couch and the Princess Bride is queued up on the VCR. Normally I’d pick something that I could have a good cry over, but this is probably a better idea. No need to fully initiate him the first month.

I settle into the couch with a mug of soup. Drinking it is really warming my insides up and it’s definitely helping the cramping. I’m actually almost done with it when Josh gets back. He’s dressed in sweats and has a heating pad.  
“I thought you might like this for your back or something.” He says as he hands it to me. I slip under the blanket and put it on my abdomen. Yes. That feels good. Josh sits and the end of the couch and puts my feet in his lap. Then he starts the movie.

I open my eyes and look around. I must have fallen asleep during the movie. Josh is still sitting at the end of the couch but the food is cleared off the coffee table and now his laptop is on it.

“What time is it?”   
“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Josh glances at his wrist. “It’s almost 11. You missed most of the movie.”  
“You telling me you watched it after I fell asleep?” He laughs at me.  
“No. You know me too well. I turned it off to do some work. It’s not that funny without you quoting the lines to me.”

He puts the file down and rubs my foot a little.  
“How ya doin’?”   
I take a deep breath and stretch a bit. I am feeling a little better. I know today and tonight will be the worst of it. As long as I stay medicated, I’ll be fine--- just more tired than normal.

“I’m okay.” I say softly. I’m in uncharted territory here. There have been so many times where I’ve felt exactly like I did tonight but I just drugged myself and powered through. No one ever looked closely enough at me to realize that I felt lousy, and then tried to make me feel better. Dr. Freeride had thought that my menstral cycle was nothing more than a major inconvenience to his sex life. The nicest thing he ever said about it was “well, at least I know you’ll be able to have kids when I’m ready.” Josh is being so sweet. He’s been loving and attentive ever since I mentioned it. He doesn’t seem irritated or annoyed at all. My eyes start to water. Immediately he looks concerned.  
“Are you sure you’re okay?”  
“Yeah.” I give him a watery smile.  
“Wanna try again on the movie? How about some Chocolate Therapy?”  
“That would be really great. Thanks for being so nice about this.”  
He cocks his head and gives me a confused look. I just shake my head and smile at him. It’s nice that he doesn’t think that he’s done anything extra-special.  
“I’m sorry that you don’t feel that great. But I’m glad that we are together and I’m glad that I get to take care of you now.”

Well, that kind of makes me want to bawl my eyes out. But I manage to hold back the flood. I sit up and take Josh’s face in my hands then kiss him very gently on the lips.  
“Thank you.”

I’ve dated a lot of gomers. And I came very close to marrying one of them. I know without a doubt that Joshua Lyman was worth the wait.


	18. Chapter 18

The President-Elect kicked everyone out of the office at 5 pm tonight. He gave me a heads up around noon that he planned to do it.

“It’s Friday, everyone! Go have some fun! That’s an order.” He’d said. Helen and the kids flight arrives at 6 and he wants to pick them up from the airport himself. “I don’t care if it does involve a motorcade.” He’d told the secret service.

This has worked out really well for us. The Twitchy Chick from Treasury doesn’t usually get home until after 6 pm and since its Friday night she has plans to go out right after work. She doesn’t think she’ll be home until after 11. We are free to stop by and pick up Donna’s things, so now we are on our way over there. I called at lunch and rented a cargo van. Donna has assured me that there isn’t really that much stuff, but I want to be on the safe side.

When we get to Donna’s apartment, it mostly looks the same. It’s the same color, all the same furniture, same decor but I don’t feel the spark of excitement I used to get when I’d come here. It’s because its not Donna’s place anymore.

I look at Donna for direction. I’m sure she has a plan.

“O.k. let’s start in the bedroom.”  
“I love this plan so far!” I tell her wiggling my eyebrows. This earns me a smack on my arm. ow. That kind of hurt. She rolls her eyes completely unsympathetically at me.

“My dresser still has all my clothes in it. We figured it would be easier for Janice just to bring her own and leave my stuff where it was. We can take the drawers out and then put the dresser in the van then put the drawers back in. That way we don’t have to pack any of those clothes and the dresser will be light enough for us to move it.”  
“Okay.”

The first step of her plan goes off without a hitch. The dresser really doesn’t look like its anything special. Probably from one of those pressboard kits. Really we could probably just get rid of it- but this does seem like an okay way to move her clothes for now. We head back into the house and Donna goes straight to the closet in the bathroom. She moves stuff around for a minute then pulls out a set of sheets.  
“I thought we weren’t bringing the bed?”  
“We’re not.” She lays the flat sheet out on the bed then goes to the closet and opens it. A bunch of clothes are shoved together against the far side. She pulls them out, leaving them on the hangers and then lays them on top of the sheet. Then she folds the sheet around them and ties the ends together.  
“Viola!” She says. “Can you carry this out to the living room? We’ll put it in the van last.” She looks around the bedroom with a little smile. “Nothing else in here.”  
“Are you sure you don’t want to christen the bed?”   
“No, it will just have to live with nothing more than my fantasies of you.”  
“You fantasized about me here?”  
“Yes.”  
“Wanna tell me one?” She gives me a funny look.

Donna takes a box and goes into the bathroom. She looks through the drawers and closet. She pulls out one oversided bath towel, a hair dryer, some bath salts, and a clear bin with several bottles of nail polish.

In the kitchen, she opens every cupboard and drawer one at a time. She looks at her dishes and silverware but leaves them. Mine are nicer and we really don’t need another set. Same with her pots and pans. She wraps a faded “Bartlet for America” mug in a dishtowl then puts it in the box. Her shoulders slump a little. .

“Do you have a crockpot?” She asks.  
“No.”  
“O.k. we’d better bring mine then.” She pulls out an appliance that looks like its seen better days. We really don’t need to move this. We could just buy a new one. But I sense that she needs to bring some things from her apartment into mine in order to make it ours. 

We move onto the living room. Janice already boxed up Donna’s pictures and books to make room for her own things on the shelves. I take that box out to the van and come back. In the mean time, she’s put a few throw blankets and some movies and cds in another box.  
“Anything else in here?” I ask her.  
“No. I subleased it as a furnished apartment. I can’t really take much.”  
Truth is there isn’t much to take. The furniture looks like it was all second hand to begin with. Although having spent a few drunken nights on the sofa early in the Bartlet Administration, I can tell you it’s pretty comfortable.  
“What about the TV and VCR? Once the sublease is up at the end of the month, do you want those?”  
“We don’t really need another set do we? Do we really want to have to come back for any of this?”  
I love my wife. Somehow it’s completely logical that we’ll take an old beat up crockpot but leave behind a halfway decent TV and VCR. But I’m not going to argue. We can afford to replace anything that we want to. As long as she’s okay leaving it behind, I’m happy not to have to move it.

“So is there a storage area?”  
“No.”  
“So this is it?”  
“Yeah, I guess so.” I knew that Donna was a girl on a budget. I just never realized how much of a shoestring budget it was. 8 years here and nothing of real value to show for it? I’d like to give her the world.  
“So are you going to miss this place?”  
“Not really, but it was a good apartment. I was comfortable here. It was a good place to start over and look and all the great things that happened to me when I moved here. I made great friends, I got to work for the President and I met the love of my life.“  
Yeah, I guess I was completely wrong about her not having anything of value to show from her time here.


	19. Chapter 19

I’m sitting in bed staring at my dresser. It looks ridiculous here in the bedroom. Josh’s bedroom set all matches. It’s a nice dark walnut five piece set. I’m sure he bought it all at once. I’m sure it wasn’t cheap. My dresser is one of those “assemble it yourself” jobs that you can get at Target for around $50. But I only paid $10 because I got it from Goodwill. And as a bonus, it was already assembled.. Staring at this dresser makes me feel out of place, like I don’t belong here. I can’t stop the thought from creeping up on me. But I do know that it is ridiculous, so I quickly banish it. I belong with Josh.

“You’ve been giving that dresser the evil eye for quite awhile,:” Josh says coming into the bedroom from the bathroom, “what did it ever do to you?”  
“It looks like it doesn’t belong here.”  
“So get a new one. I’m sure we can find something that matches. Or replace the whole bedroom set if you want. It’s pretty old- I’ve had it ever since I moved to DC.”   
“This stuff is nice. I don’t want to replace it. I just feel kind of bad that I’m not really contributing anything to our home. But your stuff is all so much nicer than anything I own.”

He comes over and sits on the bed and looks at me intently.  
“This isn’t my stuff anymore. It’s our stuff. And you are contributing to our home. You are contributing the heart and soul. Before you all I had was stuff, it wasn’t that great. If I had to choose between you and stuff, we’d be living in a cardboard box.” 

See I knew I belonged with Josh. Most people don’t get to see this side of him but when it comes right down to it, he’s pretty sappy. I really love that about him. And I love that it’s a side that’s mostly just for me. I smile brightly at him and pull him in for a quick kiss on the lips. He smiles at me and tries to come back for more. Typical guy. I pull back a little.  
“Morning breath.” I tell him.  
“I don’t care.”  
“And you are still gross from the treadmill. How about we shower together and I’ll tell you a fantasy?”  
“Let’s go.” He says pulling the covers off me and grabbing my hand.

 

Later, I’m pawing through my old dresser trying to figure out what to wear. In the Bartlet Administration we wore jeans and sweaters on the weekends unless Josh had an important meeting. I’m torn. I’d like to dress nice because I haven’t had very many meetings with Mrs. Santos since I accepted the job as her Chief of Staff. On the other hand, Helen invited us to lunch and I think Helen wants to be friends.

I flop down on the bed in my bra and panties with a huff. Josh hears my frustration and comes back into the room saying-“Problems in here?” but when he sees me laying there, he says “oh, not a problem at all. I very much like the outfit you’ve got on--- as long as we stay home today.” He walks up to the bed, leans over me and runs his hands down my sides causing goose bumps to spring up all over my body. Man. I want him. 

“Josh” I whine, “We really don’t have time. We need to be at Blair House by noon.” Our mutually satisfying experience in the shower is just going to have to hold us over until tonight.

“Might I mention that I’m the one who is dressed ready to go. While you are the one laying there, half naked, tempting me?” He points out with a leering look.

“I can’t decide what to wear.” I prop myself up and look at him. He’s wearing jeans and a sweater. It’s one of my favorite outfits. He’s worn it in plenty of my fantasies. I can’t wait to get him out of it tonight.

“Have you always been this indecisive? Because I gotta tell you I never noticed it before.” I raise an eyebrow at him. If he didn’t notice, he wasn’t paying enough attention. How many majors did I have? But he’s right, I didn’t let him see this side of me very often. At work, I was very much a fan of the ‘fake it until you make it’ philosophy.

I can be decisive. I get up and grab a pair of jeans and pull them on. Then I put on a tight-fitting, light blue turtleneck sweater and put a Navy Blazer over it. I put on my boots. There, I think that is a good compromise between casual and professional. I turn to look at Josh, who has been sitting on the bed watching me.

“Man. That was hot. I knew I liked watching you undress, but I had no idea watching you get dressed could be such a turn on. I just want to rip those clothes right back off you.” His eyes are smoldering. I take half of a step toward the bed before I stop myself. 

“We cannot be late.” He looks at his watch.  
“We have time.”  
“Not if we are going to stop and look for a new dresser on the way.”  
“You know what?” he says sighing with frustration, “now I hate that dresser too.”


	20. Chapter 20

Thank God Donna decided to be decisive when it came to furniture shopping. It probably helped that we really only had 45 minutes to accomplish the whole thing. One store. One quick trip around the store trying to dodge all the sales people. And then straight back to the grouping that she decided looked the closest to what we already own. I already have a low chest of drawers that has our TV on it. She ended up picking a taller 6 drawer dresser that really does look like it could be part of the set. It will fit in the room and it will hold all her stuff with room to spare. I was a little surprised that she wasn’t at all tempted to look for a whole new set. But I appreciate that she’s really not very materialistic. That’s the nice thing about classic, well made furniture, it stands the test of time. Besides, even though I’m not anxious to move, I really doubt that this Brownstone will be our forever home. We can change furniture when we decide that we need a bigger house.

Speaking of bigger homes, we are almost to Blair House. I had to laugh when Mrs. Santos didn’t want to use someone’s mansion during the transition. I don’t think she realized that Blair house is actually four townhouses combined. It has 120 rooms, over 60,000 square feet and 18 full-time employees. Of course, the Santos family isn’t using the whole thing during their stay. And as I discovered when we got back from vacation, somehow Mrs. Santos managed to convince the executive chef to let her use one of the kitchens. She’s trying to make it as homey as possible when she’s there with the kids. 

I think they are still making a good statement. Even though Blair House is actually bigger than the White House and bigger than any of the mansions they could have borrowed, the fact that its owned by the government, instead of being a largess from a private citizen, is good for their populist message. The more I get to know Helen Santos, the more I am impressed with her. She definitely has some ideas and opinions of her own, but while we were on the campaign she demonstrated that she does understand the need to get behind the agenda and she understands that she has a role to play. It’s pretty clear that she doesn’t always like it, and that she’s not going to be afraid to tell her husband or me when she doesn’t, but she’s a team player. I think she and Donna are going to work great together.

We pull into a parking space just a few minutes before noon. Perfect timing. I smile at Donna. We may have to work weekends, but we have amazing jobs. Lunch at “the most exclusive hotel in DC” as the Blair House is often called. I wonder if the executive chef is preparing something or if Mrs. Santos is cooking. 

We ring the bell and a butler opens the door. But at the same time I notice a little face disappear from the window. As we walk in, Miranda Santos almost tackles us. She grabs one of Donna’s hands and one of mine as we walk behind the butler. “Hi!” She exclaims, “I’ve been waiting all morning for you!” 

“You have?” I tease her. “Have you been watching out the window this whole time?”  
She wrinkles up her nose adorably. “Well, no. I played ‘Go Fish’ with Daddy. Then we had a tea party. Then I helped Mommy make cookies. Then Iwas supposed to do an hour of reading before you got here. So I’ve only been watching out the window since 11.” She suddenly realizes what she just confessed. She stop and lets go of our hands, covers her mouth and looks crestfallen. I have to fight not to laugh. 

I kneel down and look her in the eye and say “If you promise to do the hour of reading later I won’t tell on you.” I am rewarded with a bright smile.  
“I promise.” She vows solemly. We both look up at Donna with pleading eyes.

To my surprise, she really seems to be debating it with herself. I guess she could be worried about her job with Mrs. Santos. It’s not a good idea to keep secrets from her. On the other hand, her life will be easier if the kids like her. I haven’t really had much opportunity to observe Donna with the kids but when I have it seems like they got along.

“Okay,” she finally says “but let’s not make this a habit.”


	21. Chapter 21

Yikes. Miranda put me in a tough spot there. If she was my niece it would be a no-brainer. I’d keep her secrets and help her break the rules. I’m a bit of a black sheep. I want Miranda and Peter to like me but I work for their mom. I’m going to need to have a conversation with Helen about this at some point. I won’t tell Miranda’s secret from today, but I need a plan for how to handle something like this in the future.

The Butler shows us into a drawing room, where Helen and Matt greet us.   
“Josh! Donna!” Helen gives us both a hug. Matt hugs me but shakes Josh’s hand in greeting.  
“Sir, Ma’am.” Josh responds. This causes Helen to give him a dirty look and Matt to laugh.  
“Have a seat.” Matt directs. They sit down on a loveseat and we sit across from them. Miranda lands on a rather expensive looking chair off by the fireplace.

“Okay, Josh” Helen begins, “Donna and I have been over this. I don’t want to be Ma’am’d any more than absolutely necessary. I have complete confidence that the two of you can handle calling us Matt and Helen when we aren’t working, and call us by the appropriate names or titles when we are.”

Josh looks hesitant, so Helen switches modes. Where her rehearsed speech sounded professional, this time she sounds a little desperate.

“Please. I have no friends here. I need . . .” She stops and takes a deep breath and I see her struggle to put a mask back on. Well, if that isn’t proof that she knows that she has roles that she has to play, I don’t know what is. But if she really wants us to be friends with Matt and Helen she’s going to have to let us see the real her more often, not less. As soon as her voice started to break, Matt had picked up her hand and glared at Josh, who in turn picked up my hand for support.  
Miranda breaks the tension by excitedly asking-  
“Can I call them Tio Josh and Tia Donna?”  
This makes us all laugh.

“I would be honored if you would call me Tio Josh,” Josh says looking at Miranda, “that is if its o.k. with you, Matt, Helen.” He looks at each of them for confirmation and they both smile back at him. Then Matt turns and motions Miranda over to him. He picks her up and puts her on his lap.

“You may call them Tio and Tia when we are at home. When we are in public, I want you to try to remember to call them Mr. and Mrs. Lyman. Okay, sweetheart?”  
“Yes Daddy.”  
“And these are the only staff people that I want you to call Tio and Tia, at least for right now. Everyone else you need to use proper names.”  
“Okay”  
“Now, go have lunch with your brother, then do your reading.” She scampers off.

“You knew she didn’t do her reading?” Josh asks in amazement.  
“Kids don’t get away with nearly as much as they think they do. Tell me, Josh. Would you have told on her?”  
“No,” Josh admits with a small laugh of embarassment.  
“Good.” Matt says “Then you deserve to be her Tio Josh.” He looks at both of us. “Trust your gut, you’ll know when it’s something you need to tell us. Otherwise, for you to be adults that they look up to, you have to figure out how to help them yourselves sometimes.”  
“I did make her promise to do the reading later.” Josh says, obviously proud of himself.  
“Perfect. Their whole world has been shaken up. They are used to being around a lot of family and friends. In Texas, your aunts and uncles help you navitgate life, by loving you and correcting you when you need it. They don’t go running to your parents everytime you mess up. I hope that the two of you will be that for them here. Peter make take a little bit to warm up to you, but obviously Miranda already has.”

Helen has been smiling and nodding this whole time. I feel much more relaxed. This is a strange job I’ve signed on for, but I’m really looking forward to it.


	22. Chapter 22

After lunch, Peter joins Matt and I and we head into a study to watch the Army/Navy Game. I’m not a big football fan, but the game is obviously a big deal to Matt and Peter. I’m surprised they didn’t go watch it in person. With Matt being an Annapolis Grad and former football player, I would have expected the school to reach out to him and ask him to attend, but I haven’t seen anything about it. I wonder if someone dropped the ball while I was on vacation. I don’t want to say anything in front of Peter, so I wait until he takes a bathroom break during a commerical.

“Did you get an invitation to attend the game?” I ask Matt.  
“Yes, but Helen isn’t quite comfortable with the idea of the kids making any public appearances yet. Peter and I always watch the game together. I didn’t want to go without him and I didn’t want to make my wife unhappy.”  
“Ah.”  
“Don’t mention it in front of him, o.k.? I don’t want him to be disappointed.”  
“Sure.” I hadn’t thought about it, but I guess sometimes it’s a tricky business trying to make everybody happy. Matt put his wife’s and kid’s feelings above his own. And put his wife first without making his kid feel bad. I loved Leo but I’m starting to wonder if we really needed to work 16 hour or longer days and sacrifice everything to try to be good people.

Peter comes racing back into the room. “Did I miss anything?”  
“Did you wash your hands?” Matt asks. Peter looks down at his hands then turns around and runs back out of the room.  
“Eleven years old and you still have to ask every time.” He shakes his head. Man, there is a lot to remember with this parenting stuff.

Peter slides back into the room just as the game is about to resume. There is a group of cadets on the screen and Peter shouts with them-   
“Go Navy!”  
“Beat Army!” Matt answers back. This is an interesting ritual. Sports don’t really get that much devotion at Harvard and Yale. 

A steward stops in to check on us and Matt and I each ask for a beer. He brings them back along with a bottle of root beer for Peter. He clinks bottles with us, happy to be one of the guys. 

It’s an exciting game. After the next commerical, when Peter shouts “Go Navy!” I find myself anwering, back along with Matt, “Beat Army!” This earns me a big grin from both of them. Sports really do assist in male bonding. When the game is over, Navy is victorious, 26 to 14. We all scream “YES!!” as the final second ticks off. Maybe next year we can all go to the game together.


	23. Chapter 23

Miranda, Helen and I are playing dress up in Miranda’s room. I have a hot pink boa, while Helen’s is white with sparkles. Miranda has some sort of princess costume on. I think its the same one she wore for Halloween. While we are playing, I’ve been trying to make some progress on the question of the Inaugural Ball Gown.

We are sitting on the floor looking at some sketches and fabric samples that were sent by famous designers. As we are looking through them Helen stops at an Oscar de la Renta and asks-  
“How much do you think this costs?”  
“A lot. One of Mrs. Lassiter’s Inaugural Gowns cost $50,000.” Helen turns a little pale.  
“Who pays for the gown?” She asks.  
“Well, I think you already know this but, you don’t get any salary or clothing allowance for being First Lady.”  
“Right. So Matt and I have to pay for the gown. Donna, we don’t have $10,000 to spend on a gown. We aren’t independently wealthy.”  
“We do have some wiggle room here.” I read to her from my notes: 

“ ‘For official events of public or historic significance, such as a state visit, the first lady's clothes may be given as a gift by a designer and accepted on behalf of the U.S. government. They are then stored by the National Archives.’

So, if you see something you like, we can reach out to one of these designers and ask them to donate all or part of the cost of your gown.”

“So more largess?” She asks unhappily. “That’s not really the message that Matt and I want to send.”  
“I know.” I knew this was going to be a problem for her and I have been trying to think of solutions.  
“Donna, you had to attend formal events didn’t you?”  
“Yes.”  
“What did you do? Or was money not an issue for you?” I chuckle a little. Money was definitely an issue. I’ve never admitted it, but there were times that I didn’t actually have food in the house because I had bought a dress. The cost of living in DC is very high.  
“I bought all of mine used from consignment shops.”  
“Can I do that?” She asks. NO! It’s a terrible idea, but I need to break it to her gently.

“Let me tell you a story then you can decide for yourself. One time I found a dress that I really liked. It was bright pink, and had a sort of purple shimmer to it.” I have Miranda’s full attention now. “ It was a little bit more than I wanted to spend, but I was able to put it on hold and make payments on it. I dieted and lost a few pounds and it fit me perfectly.”

I don’t tell her that it was during a time when Josh was enscorcelled by Amy and not feeding me as much so it was sort of a forced diet due to lack of funds. 

“I was so excited the night of the party. It was Mrs. Bartlet’s birthday. So it felt even more special, I mean it’s always still a work night, but I really felt like a guest.” I also don’t tell her how I didn’t get into the party right away due to an INS snafu so I spent the first part of the party playing solitare in Josh’s office, eating olives and finishing his whisky.

“About half way through the night some Senator’s wife cornered me and told me how lovely I looked in her old dress. That it was nice that I wasn’t worried about fashion trends and that I was confident enough to go to a boutique to find something that wasn’t currently in style so that I could stand out.”

Helen looks at me sympathetically then looks up just as I feel Josh’s hands on my shoulders. crap. I didn’t hear the guys come into the room. This story actually gets worse but this is the part that applies to Helen so I have to finish telling it.

“By itself, that wouldn’t have been so bad, but she told all of her friends. All night long I kept getting backhanded compliments and knowing looks from the ‘capital wives club.’ I wanted to leave so badly but I couldn’t disrespect Abbey Bartlet like that. I know that no one would say anything to your face if you bought a gown second hand, but do you want to take any chance that someone will recognize it?” I hope she understands that if someone talked to the press about it it would be the story of the day after inauguration and the spin would be that the First Lady doesn’t know how to represent the country.

Helen looks fierce. “Maybe I do!” She announces. “Maybe I want to get right in the face of the capital wives club. It’s ridiculous to spend this kind of money on gowns when there are kids going to bed hungry! What if I make it into a whole story? Invite a reporter to go shopping with me and make sure that they know why I am buying a used gown. What do you think?”

I think we discovered that there is a little bit of activist in Helen. I like the idea of finding a way to save money on the gown, but the used idea doesn’t sit well with me. I need a minute to think.  
“Let me think about this for a minute.” I say to Helen. Josh rubs my shoulders but doesn’t say anything. I’m sure he has an opinion but I’m really glad he’s not jumping in.

“The idea of buying second hand still makes me nervous. With my luck we’d end up getting some gown with some sort of horrible backstory we’d have to manage. And you buying a gown, even in a small amount stimulates the economy. What if we buy off the rack? If we buy some reasonably priced dresses, and we find some allies to do the same? We can encourage others attending to buy less expensive dresses and make a donation to child hunger organization in the amount of what they save. Quite a few first ladies get a dress from a new designer and it helps launch that person’s career. This could help launch a cause.”

“I like it.” Helen states. Then she looks at the guys. “What do you think?”


	24. Chapter 24

“Well, I’m all for you spending less money.” Matt says to Helen, “but I don’t think it’s going to completely destroy our populist message if you allow the government to accept some clothing donations on your behalf if it’s reasonable.”

Everyone looks at me for my opinion. The First Lady’s clothing is completely out of my element but I trust Donna’sjudgment.

“I think Donna’s right about avoiding a consignment shop. There is too much of an unknown element to it. I think tying a cause into how you pick your gown could work. I think Donna should work on that this week and see where you are by the end of the week with it.” Helen and Donna smile at me, happy to be given the green light on their first project. I’m not going to burst their bubble and point out that I haven’t actually said yes yet. I’ve only given them the green light to explore whether its possible.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.” Miranda announces. I glance at my watch. It’s just after 6. I wonder if Donna has covered everything on her list to discuss with Helen. Matt and I only spent a little time talking business but we’ve got Monday. I was really pretty enjoyable to just watch the game and see him interact with Peter.

“Should we do pizza and family game night?” Helen asks Miranda, who’s face lights up.  
“Yes! Can Tio Josh and Tia Donna stay?” Miranda looks at all of us excitedly. Um, I’m not sure about this. I don’t want to intrude but I also don’t want to offend. And I also want to get Donna home so I can get her out of that turtleneck. Seeing her dressed like that has been driving me crazy all day.

“We’ll see.” Helen says non-committally. Another parenting trick I need to master. “For now, go get your brother and pick out a couple games. Daddy will go order the pizza in a minute.”

Now that it’s just adults in the room, I try to get a better gauge on the mood. Matt looks amused. Helen looks hopeful and Donna isn’t really making eye contact. How am I supposed to read her mind about what we are supposed to do if she isn’t looking at me? Matt seems to sense our discomfort.

“Hey, we’ll leave you two alone a minute, so you can talk about it. We’d love to have you join us if you’d like, but don’t feel like you are obligated based on your jobs.” For a minute Helen looks like she’d be okay with it if Matt ordered us to stay. But she smiles at him as he takes her hand and helps her up. As they leave the room Matt says-

“Oh, and I should probably warn you- we have a saying around here- ‘It’s not really family game night until someone leaves the room crying.’ We are all very competitive.”

I offer Donna my hand, like Matt did with Helen, and she smiles at me. I lead her over to the chair by the bookshelf then sit down and pull her on to my lap.

“Hey.” I say softly “I haven’t seen you much today.” It’s really only been a little over 3 hours but I missed her.  
“Hey.” She says back, resting her head on my shoulder. I want talk to her more about Abbey Bartlet’s birthday. I want to apologize for all the mean things people said to her over the years. One of the things that kept me from being honest about how I felt about her was the fall-out she would have faced from dating her boss. But sometimes I wonder if dating me would have given her protection from other kinds of attacks. I wonder how many things happened to her that I didn’t know about. I can’t undo the past but I can’t help but wishing that I could have protected her from every bad thing that’s ever happened in her life. I squeeze her a little tighter. Now’s not the time for this conversation.

“So what do you think? Should we stay or go home?” It’s only been a couple minutes since they left the room but we should give Matt and Helen our answer right away.   
Donna sighs a little and says “We should stay.” I should have asked her if she wanted to stay. I might have got a different answer.  
“We don’t have to.” I actually do think its a good idea to stay. We’ve been asked to and the more time that we spend with the Santos family, the better we’ll be to understand them and serve his presidency. Leo really knew Jed Bartlet. I don’t have the benefit of years of friendship under my belt. But its Saturday night and we have a choice. I don’t want Donna to feel like what she wants doesn’t matter.  
“I know. I’m a little tired, and part of me would like to go home. But I don’t get that much time with Helen. I’m really excited about this job. I want to do a good job and to do that I need to spend as much time with her as I can. Plus, I really like her. I really like this family. This is our first chance to have friends that only really know us as a couple. Do you think it’s okay for us to be friends with them?” Donna sounds a little nervous. I’m not sure if it’s just the question of whether or not it’s professional or if it’s the thought of having friends.  
“I think it’ll be okay. Leo and President Bartlet managed a friendship. We can too.”  
“Okay,” Donna smiles at me, “let’s go tell them that we’ll stay.”

We run into Miranda in the hall.  
“What kind of pizza do you want?” She asks us. It’s so cute how she’s decided to just skip the question of whether or not we are staying and just move right to the second question.  
“What kind do you normally get?” I ask her. I really hope she says cheese only. I don’t like a bunch of junk on my pizza and I usually get a lot of grief about it.  
“Everything!” She says excitedly. I try not to groan. Donna squeezes my hand sympathetically.  
“Can we get one with just cheese?” Donna asks Miranda. God. I love this woman.


	25. Chapter 25

“Sure!” Miranda says and runs off to tell her parents what kind of pizza we’d like.  
“Thanks, Babe.” Josh squeezes my hand and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. At least after all this time with Josh, I feel equipped to deal with it if our kids end up being picky eaters.

When we get to the dining room, the Santos family is already there and having a debate about which game to play first. I’m sort of surprised to see that there is a pretty good stack of them on the end of the table. Why would they travel with so many games for just a weekend? Then I notice that several of the boxes are really old looking. The General Manager must keep games here for entertainment purposes. It makes me wonder what dignitaries might have used these before us. Once again, I’m reminded that I don’t have a normal job.

Miranda draws us into the debate over what to play.  
“Tio Josh- what’s your vote?” Josh looks over the boxes. He lingers on Risk for a minute and I roll my eyes. I hope he realizes that isn’t going to work for family game night with 6 people, not to mention that Miranda is 5!  
“Monopoly?” Josh suggests with a shrug. I don’t think he’s really much of a board game player.  
Helen writes ‘Monopoly’ down on a piece of paper and folds it up. Ah, I see what she’s doing. That’s how my Mom handled family game night too.  
“I vote for Yahtzee.” I say and she writes that down as well. Josh looks confused.   
“Why are you writing them down and folding them up if you already know how we voted? It’s not really a secret ballot that way.” Peter and Miranda look at him like he’s an idiot, but Helen just smiles gently at him.   
“Josh didn’t have a brother or sister to play games with when he was your age.” I say looking at Peter. I don’t mention that he was only a few years older than Miranda when Joanie died. I doubt that Matt and Helen know about Joanie, and I’m not going to mention it. He wasn’t exactly an only child, but in many ways it’s like he was.

Helen picks up the pieces of paper and adds them to the bowl that’s next to her. Then holds it out to Matt who takes a slip from the bowl. I see the understanding dawn in Josh’s eyes.  
“First, up is Yahtzee.” Matt says.  
“Yes!” Peter and I say at the same time. He must have picked Yahtzee too. Miranda starts to pout but Matt shoots her a look that says “knock it off.” I manage to avoid giggling at her. There were times growing up where family game night almost ended in tears before it started at my house too.

We are about half-way through the game and Josh is taking it pretty seriously. It’s kind of fun to watch. He just rolled 1, 2, 3, 5, 6. He’s already used his chance spot and his ones and he already has his small straight, but he announces- “I’m going for it” as he puts the 1 back in the cup and shakes it. He gets a 1 again so he scoops it up and gives it his third roll. Another 1.  
“Damn.” He mutters.  
“Tio Josh said a swear!” Miranda announces and Josh looks horrified that he just swore in front of the bosses’ five year old. Luckily for him, Helen and Matt burst out into laughter.  
“Give her a dollar, Josh.” Matt says. Josh looks confused but reaches in his pocket, pulls out his wallet and produces the bill.  
“It’s for the swear jar.” Helen says. “If you swear in front of the kids you have to pay a dollar. How do you think I got Matt to stop?” Matt snickers. “ Well, mostly.”  
Josh smiles sheepishly and pulls another $5 out of his wallet, laying it on the table.  
“I don’t like losing.” He says causing Matt and Helen to laugh even louder.  
“Just don’t teach her any new words.” Matt finally says.

During the second half of the game, Josh starts asking Peter’s advice about what which die to keep and which sets to go for, and Peter gives him good strategy. I doubt that Josh really needs the advice but it’s a great way to interact with Peter. The pizza arrives and we eat while we finish the game. I notice that after he sees Josh take a cheese only piece, Peter does the same. He’s much quieter than Miranda but I think maybe he admires Josh too. 

I haven’t really had the chance to see Josh with kids before. Seeing him with the Santos kids makes me feel a little less certain about raising kids of our own. I’m still not ready to think of it as anything more than an abstract concept out in the future, but a little glimpse of reality helps ease the doubt that sometimes creeps up on me. I know I want kids someday, and I know that given our ages, someday needs to happen sooner rather than later, but I’m just not sure that we’ll ever be ready.

When the game finally ends, I’m ready to go home. I can see that Miranda wants to play something else and I hate to disappoint her, but with my luck they’d pick Monopoly or something that takes forever. I sneak a glance at Josh and find him looking intently at me.

“Well, this was a lot of fun.” Josh says. “And I’d like a rematch sometime,” he ruffles Peter’s hair. “But it’s Donna’s bedtime. I need to take her home.”  
Peter wrinkles up his brow, trying to figure out if I really go to bed at 8pm, while Miranda looks at me sympathetically.  
“I get to stay up until 9 on weekends.” She says with pride. Josh smirks at me.  
“Well, maybe after she has her bath and puts her jammies on, if she’s a very good girl, I’ll let Donna stay up a little bit longer and read . . . or something.”


	26. Chapter 26

“So a bath and jammies?” Donna says as soon as we get into the car, smirking at me. Then her voice drops an octave “and what is your definition of being a very good girl?” Her eyes are smoldering and I’m finding it a little hard to concentrate on backing out of the parking spot.

Then she breaks the mood and starts laughing at me. “God, Josh I can’t believe you said that in front of the kids. Helen’s eyes almost bugged out of her head!”

“Yeah, maybe not my brightest moment. Do you think they picked up on anything?”  
“No, I think they are still young enough but I wouldn’t press your luck like that again if I were you.”  
“That’s probably wise.”

“Hey, stop at the grocery store on the way home. I want to make chili tomorrow.”  
As I pull into the new Trader Joe’s, Donna gets a huge smile on her face.  
“This is a real store.”  
“Yeah.”  
“And it’s so close.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Oh my god. I am never going to that Foggy Bottom Grocery again.” 

Sometimes women confuse me. I didn’t understand why she went to the Foggy Bottom Grocery to begin with. There are a bunch of little convenience stores in Georgetown. But as we start walking through the store she acts like I just brought her to the greatest place on earth, so I’m not complaining.

“This is even better than the Safeway near my old apartment. I thought I was going to have to go back there to do grocery shopping.” Oh. This is just another one of those things that she needed to get worked out. Sometimes I forget how much I just completely up-ended her life. For me getting married just made everything in my life feel settled. I hope she thinks it’s worth it. I stop pushing the cart and pull her into a hug.

“Thank you.”  
“For what?”   
“For doing all this.”  
“Grocery shopping? In case you didn’t notice, you’re helping here, bub.” She sort of laughs at me. I guess I’m not really making sense.  
“For marrying me, for moving into my place, for giving up your stuff. I think you got the fuzzy end of the lollipop.”  
“I got you.” She smiles at me.  
“Like I said, fuzzy end.” I sort of shrug. I know everyone thinks I have an ego the size of Montana but I know that I got the better end of this deal.  
“Josh,” She grabs either side of my face with her hands, “there are going to be adjustments for both of us as we figure out how to be married and live together, but don’t ever doubt how I feel about you. There isn’t anyone else in the world for me. You are all I ever wanted.” She gives me a huge smacking kiss and grins at me. “Besides, this store is AMAZING!”

As we walk up and down the aisles, Donna mentions some of the things she can make and we pick up enough for 3 or 4 dinners. I’m not completely helpless in the kitchen either. It’s just that take-out is so convenient compared to cooking for yourself. I don’t mind getting take-out all the time if it’s easier on her. I’m really not looking for a 1950’s housewife, but she seems to really like the idea of cooking at least some of the time. And I have to admit that making dinner together on Tuesday was pretty fun and not just because of the sex. 

Back at home the parking on the street is impossible. I’m so glad that I have my spot back. I wasn’t sure how Donna was going to react when Purple Heart came to get her car this morning, but she was fine with it. I’m starting to understand that sometimes she’s not very confident when it comes to making a decision, but once she makes up her mind about something and has a plan she’s full steam ahead. I’m really glad she chose me.

As we are putting the groceries away, I get back to a discussion about work.  
“So did you get through your list with Helen?”  
“Yes, really everything but the gown just needed her confirmation. I don’t know about the gown though. Do you think her idea could work?”

“I’m not exactly the foremost expert on Inaugural Ball Gowns, Donna. I trust you and you need to trust your gut. What do you think?”

“Well, I am completely opposed to the consignment shop idea.” My gut twists. Hearing her tell Helen about how she had been treated by the Washington Elite makes me want to scream. I just don’t understand how people can be so mean. Especially to Donna, who is always nice to everyone.

“Hey, about that . . . I wish I’d known. I really hate the thought of you being miserable. Wanna tell me which Senator’s wife so I can return the favor?”

She looks down at her hands and I see her sigh a little. “No.” She says softly. “It was a long time ago. But I don’t really want to buy a used dress again. And if Helen does then I feel like I have to also. Am I wrong for trying to steer her away from that?”

“No, I don’t think so. You are trying to save her from the hurtful gossip that you went through, right?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well, I call that being a friend. And there is something else to it isn’t there?”  
“Yes. If the press finds out who’s dress it was, or where it was worn before- they can link those things to this administration in a story, even though it’s ridiculous. And most of all we just don’t want the “next day” stories to be about something like that. ESPECIALLY if she want to try to use it to launch a cause. Right?”

“Right.” I’m so proud of her. She gets the big picture stuff. “So what are you going to do?”

“Well I think I’ll talk to Abbey Bartlet’s COS and see who our “friends” are in the ‘capital wives club.’ I’m going to ask around a bit and see where they shop. Then I’m going to see if there is a boutique that will donate a dress AND make a big donation to a child hunger initiative. If we get a favorable response from a boutique I’ll check with our friends and see if they’ll join us in buying cheaper dresses and making donations. And I guess I also need to research some child hunger organizations to see which one we’d want to support.”

“You are so ready for this job.” I’m grinning at her.  
“I’m also ready for my bath.”   
“Well, that I can help you out with.”


	27. Chapter 27

I feel good. His finger is slowly tracing a circle on my stomach and I feel myself lifting out of a foggy dream that I can’t quite remember. I see a glimpse of sunset behind my eyes but in a moment it’s gone. The path that his finger is tracing is becoming more real with every milisecond as I sense my body starting to come awake. For a moment I consider pretending that I’m still asleep. He’ll know, but last week we had a very nice time pretending. But I’m not in the mood for pretending right now. I don’t want to stay quiet. I like being noisy in bed. I like making sure he knows it every time his hands doing something that I like. I like arching my back and grabbing at him needily. We denied our feelings and reactions to each other for so long that I don’t want to supress how I’m feeling any longer. Every time I scream his name reaffirms that we are past that. And I like watching him while I do, the possessive look in his eyes, the way his mouth quirks, the dimples that pop out when I’ve surprised him. I don’t think he expected me to be so vocal, so agressive, so involved but it’s obvious that he likes it. Yes, last week’s game was fun. But this morning isn’t the time for that. 

When I am finally sated and quiet, I glance at the clock. It’s 9:30. I’d be okay spending the entire day in bed. A lazy Sunday at home. Although, I wouldn’t call what we just did lazy. Sure it started out that way, his hands we’re slow on me to begin with, but we ended up frantic and forceful. From the satisfied look on my husband’s face, I know that neither of us minded getting up earlier than we needed to on the weekend. His hands are back to tracing lazy patterns over my skin. I know if we stay like this much longer we’ll both be ready to go again. Maybe at a slower pace.

Just then my stomach growls. His mouth quirks up. “Basic needs.” He says with a smile.  
“I don’t want to eat.” I pout. “I just want to lay here with you forever.”  
“I could bring you breakfast in bed.” Tempting. I’m sure that would consist of a cup of coffee and a bagel but that is a perfectly fine breakfast.  
“No.” I sigh. “I want to get the chili started and there are things I should do around here.” I start to roll away intending to get out of bed but his grip on my hip tightens a bit and he rolls me back for another long kiss. This one is sweet and tender. I look into his eyes and feel such a sense of belonging, of rightness. I smile slowly at him. I’m back to wanting to spend the entire day just like this.  
“Okay.” He says.  
“Okay what?” I’ve forgotten what we were talking about.  
“Okay, woman, get up and get cooking and cleaning!” He says in a mock serious tone, with a big grin on his face. He knows these are fighting words. He’s looking for a wrestling match. Sneaky.   
Well I can be sneaky too. I lean in close to his ear, my nipples brushing against his chest and say   
“Yes, sir” in a small, quiet voice. “I’ll just go put an apron on.” Then I get up and walk towards the kitchen, naked. I hear him jump out of bed to follow me. I’ve barely opened one of the kitchen drawers when he wraps his arms around me from behind, skimming his hands along the sides of my breasts.

“Do you even OWN an apron?” He says with a laugh.  
I turn in his arms and look up at him with a grin. “No.”  
He lifts me off my feet a little, spins us around once then plants a big kiss on my mouth. “You are so much fun!” He chortles. ” I am totally buying you an apron, okay?”  
“Sure” I tell him “but can we put some clothes on now? It’s a little chilly out here.”  
He pulls me tighter against him and kisses me again. “Yes, but let’s get naked again later and I’ll warm you up a different way.” I breath deeply. It sounds wonderful. I’m literally at war with myself over wanting to be productive today and just wanting Josh. But he satisfied me enough this morning that the practical side is winning. I literally can’t think of a better way to spend a day, morning sex, teasing banter, puttering around the house, some good food, a long bath and ending back up in bed. This is going to be a great day.

“Come on,” I say tugging him back into the bedroom. His eyes light up- he thinks he’s getting lucky again right now. “Let’s get dressed. You can help me with the chili.”

Once we are wearing clothes, the sexual energy drops to a more managable level.   
“Is that coffee still warm?” I jerk my head toward the pot. He must have had some coffee and done some reading before he woke me up.  
“Eh. Want me to make a fresh pot?”  
“Pour me a cup first, then yes, start another please.” He does as I asked, then hands me the cup. I take a sip. Then walk over and pour it in the sink. Josh laughs at me.  
“I told you.”  
“I know but I thought it might be okay by my standards, which you have to admit are considerable lower than yours.” He just shakes his head at me. But then grabs me around the waist and pulls me into him.  
“Baby, you don’t have to settle for less anymore.” He says suggestively in my ear. I roll my eyes at him, but I give him a quick kiss anyway. I do love it when his ego does the talking.

Just then my stomach growls again. He lets me go and walks over to the counter and pops a bagel in the toaster.  
“I really do have to remember to feed you regularly.” He says with a smile. I smile back. I’m still not sure he knows how loved I feel when he does. Maybe someday I’ll tell him.  
While its toasting, I pull the crockpot out of the cupboard and get the hamburger out of the refrigerator. I start the ground beef browning first and then wash my hands. Then I put some cream cheese on my bagel while Josh fixes me a new cup of coffee.  
“Thanks, Babe.” I say as he hands it to me. “Okay, you can start opening the cans.”  
I stand by the stove with a spatula in one hand and my bagel in the other. The meat is almost finished. “Are you sure the word spatula isn’t yiddish?’ I ask him as I turn the meat over for the last time.   
“You are so odd.” He says, then asks “Does it matter which can I open first?” I just laugh. Who is the odd one now?  
“Not really just open them all and dump them in the crockpot. Except for the beans. Those you need to drain and rinse first.”  
“Why?”  
“I don’t know you just do.”  
“Okay.”  
I turn the meat off. Once he has an empty can for me I’ll drain the grease off. In the mean time I dice up the celery. Josh has finished with the beans and is concentraing on getting the tomato puree out of the can when I’m done, so I grab an empty can and put it into the sink so I can take care of the meat. As I’m trying to pour it off without dumping the ground beef into the sink, I somehow manage to bump the pan into my forearm.  
“Ouch. Shit.” I hiss softly.  
Josh’s head pops up. “What happened?”  
“Nothing.” I finish what I’m doing, then I set the pan back on the stove. I think I’ll let it cool off a little more before I try to pour the meat into the crockpot.  
I start dicing the onions and my eyes start to water. When Josh finishes with the cans, he looks up to see me crying.  
“Donna! I though you said nothing happened?!? What’s wrong?” His voice has that slightly panicky edge to it. I know I shouldn’t do it but I can’t help but giggle at him.  
“Josh! It’s the onions!” But he’s not quite ready to buy it. He narrows his eyes at me.  
“You didn’t say ‘ouch’ because of onions. What happened?” In all the goofiness, sometimes I forget that he is a very smart man. And a slightly paranoid, over-protective one too. I stop dicing and hold out my left arm. There is a slight pink mark on it. He takes few steps there are between us so he’s close enough to look at it.  
“I bumped my arm on the hot pan. Look, it’s fine. It’s not even as bad as the sunburn in Hawaii.”

He sighs and looks a little sheepish. Then steps back and leans against the counter.  
“I just want to take care of you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Awww. When he says stuff like that, I’m willing to completely over-look the over-protectiveness. I set the knife down and say  
“Well, then, I guess you’d better kiss it and make it better.”

He grins at me, then reaches forward to take my wrists and pull me toward him. He's being very gentle, holding my "sore" arm a little up and out of the way. When I'm close enough he lets go of my good arm, and wraps his free arm around my waist pulling me tight to his body. Then he moves one leg behind mine. All his movements have been slow, deliberate. He's being very careful with me but he's taking charge of the situation. My heart is pounding but I feel very secure. Once he has me exactly where he wants me. He looks into my eyes and kisses me gently on the lips. "I love you." He whispers. Then he brings my "sore" arm up to his lips and begins to place feather light kisses all long my wrist. His lips skip over the burn, but cover every other inch of my inner arm, kissing very slowly and very softly. It seems like it should almost tickle, but it doesn't. I am starting to feel a bit lightheaded, though, so I rest my head on his chest. While he's kissing the sensitive skin in the crease where my arm bends, the fingers on his left hand gently dip into the waistband of my sweats and softly trace the edge of my hip. After a few more minutes, he pauses and looks up at me, eyes smoldering.

“Bedroom?” He asks softly.  
“Chili.” I answer weakly, my chest heaving. God. I want him. But I take a shaky step back.  
“Woman. You have some sort of willpower.” He laughs at me.


	28. Chapter 28

Somehow in spite of all the foreplay, we manage to get all the ingredients into the crockpot and set it going on high. Donna tells me that all we have to do now is wait 8 hours. I have some really good ideas about what we can do during that time. This morning has already been amazing and we still have the whole day ahead of us.

"So what should we do now?" I ask Donna, hoping that we can go back to bed.  
"Well," She says, you've been so nice" she wiggles her eyebrows at our code word "to me this morning, that I thought I should do something really nice for you." Oh yeah. I've got some ideas of really nice things she could do to me. I wonder if I get to make suggestions. While I'm thinking about it, she leaves the kitchen and heads into the living room. Without another thought, I follow after her.

She's walked over to the desk and pulled the chair away from it and off to the side. She turns back around and looks at me. "Sit there." She commands. I quickly obey. I don't mind giving up control some of the time and bossy Donna is pretty sexy. She looks around for a minute but doesn't see what she's looking for, so she heads back toward the kitchen. I start to get up to follow here.  
"Stay."  
"Yes, Ma'am." Her lips quirk. "Don't Ma'am me." She gives me a slight glare. I watch the sway of her hips as she walks away. God, I love watching her leave the room.

I hear a couple drawers open and close. Then she hollers,  
"Where do we keep the garage bags?"  
"Under the sink!" I yell back. Now I'm confused. I contemplate for a minute whether or not I should be nervous, but I decide I'm not. I trust Donna. Apparently whatever she's decided to do is messy and she is a neat freak.  
She walks back into the room and my face lights up. The thought hits me out of the blue, as nice as it is watching her leave, nothing beats watching her come back to me. God, I just love her so much. I'm completely head over heels. I will do anything to make her happy.

She walks right up to me and I see the only thing in her hand is a black garbage bag. She peels it open and swings it through the air with a flourish, then hands it to me.  
"Here. Hold this." Then she turns back toward the desk. She purses her lips and wrinkles her nose, she's so adorable. Then she picks up a stack of papers and starts looking through them.

"Credit card application." She says dumping several sheets and an envelope into the bag. "I assume you don't need that?"  
"Uh, no."  
"Do you want this Harry and David catalog?" She doesn't really wait for answer as she drops it in.  
"Old Wall Street Journal" she says as the next thing goes into the bag.  
"What are you doing?"  
"I'm cleaning off your desk."

I start to laugh. Oh my god. She got me so wound up. Either she is the queen of innuendo or I am just a horny old man because I did not see that coming.  
"Do I need to tie you up and gag you?" She inquires raising an eyebrow.  
"You are the queen. I am your humble servant." I respond trying to keep a straight face. Truth is I don't want to be gagged, if I thought she were serious about that I'd say no. She can tie me up if she wants but I don't think it's really her style. She's really all about the word play. Although she's sort of lapsed into a quiet mode while she's cleaning.

She's still asking me questions about the paperwork on my desk, so I know she wants me here. But it looks like she's spending a little time with her thoughts. I don't mind. I just like watching her work. I always have.  
Working Sundays have always been my favorite day. Getting to the office between 8 or 9, dressed casual, more relaxed, more playful. We probably didn't really need to be there, but we didn't have much else to do. We didn't have lives outside of the office. Even when I was with Amy, it was rare that I didn't go into the White House for a little while or at least talk to Donna on the phone. I can't believe I was so blind. This angel fell into my lap and I kept her in a box at the White House. I almost screwed up the greatest thing that ever happened to me. It does help to remind myself that this is where we ended up. She said she forgives me for not getting it right all those years and she married me. I am determined to do whatever it takes not to ruin my second chance. I want to make a home with her more than anything else I've ever wanted.


	29. Chapter 29

For the last 15 minutes, Josh has been sitting pretty quietly watching me work on his desk. He only answers my direct questions about what to do with the paperwork. I'm starting to get a little nervous. Where's the banter? Did I take this too far or not far enough? I don't want to tie him up or gag him. If I did, I'd have no idea what to do next. I love the little word games we play but I'm really not into anything beyond some very mild dress-up. I'm actually really pushing my comfort zone when I try to be bossy or a seductress. I think it's been good for both of us that I'm trying but that doesn't mean it isn't hard for me.

This is part of the reason that I left a mess with Josh when I left the White House. I'm not really very good at confrontation. I scheduled lunches even though I knew it wasn't a good time for him and I blew him off during breakfast on the day I quit. We talked about this a little bit in Hawaii, and we both said we are over it but I still feel a little guilty for how I treated him. I was trying to take charge and shake things up but it didn't go exactly how I imagined. I guess over-all I don't regret it because ultimately Josh and I got to this point, but maybe we could have had a little easier path if I'd done something different.  
We are in a really good place right now. Our honeymoon was the perfect combination of talking things out while also having fun and really getting to know each other physically. This week has been fun and flirty and I should keep it that way. I don't want my doubts to keep creeping in. I don't want to overwhelm him with "talks."

I'm not really very good at taking charge in a visible way instead of just sort of running the show from behind the scenes. It's part of the reason I'm so nervous about taking this COS job. What Josh said yesterday about me being ready really helps. I don't think I'd really be ready to do this without his support. Yes, that's what I needed. Cleaning always helps me think, and reminding myself that Josh believes in me always gives me a boost of confidence.  
Now that the desk is clean and I'm in a better head-space, I turn back to Josh. "Wasn't that nice of me?"  
"Yes," He answers sincerely. "Thank you."

I might be pushing my luck, but I'm going to try this seductress thing again.

"Well, you were a very good boy sitting there so patiently. I suppose you deserve a reward."  
I peel off my tee-shirt and sweats and stand in front of him in just a lace bra and panties. Then I take his hand and help him up from the chair. He looks at the newly cleaned desk and raises an eyebrow at me. Not a terrible idea, but maybe later.  
"Come with me."

I lead him to the guest bedroom and open the door. It's a disaster in there. The bed is covered with files. He groans softly.

"Joshua. I'm going to help you clean out the guest room. Your reward is this is what I'm wearing while I'm helping you. And your incentive for getting it done is christening the bed once we do."  
He drops to one knee and kiss my hand. "You are the queen."

I burst into laughter and pull him back up. This is the banter I need.  
"Come're dork."  
When he's standing again, I give him a quick kiss.  
"You okay with this plan?" I ask a little hesitantly. I know its not really a lazy Sunday kind of thing, but I'm trying to make it fun. I really would like to get this room cleaned out. This will feel more like home to me when it's neat and organized. It shouldn't take more than an hour, right? Then we can christen the bed and take a bath before lunch.

"I love this plan."


	30. Chapter 30

3 hours later and the room is finally finished. There was just a ton of paperwork in here that really did need to be read, sorted, filed and saved. I thought Donna would be excited to be done, but she looks miserable. I sit down on the edge of the bed and pull her onto my lap.

"Jesus, Donna! You're freezing!" oh my god. I'm such an idiot. I've been rather warm running back and forth from the guest room to the living room to put the files on the shelves by the desk, but I'm wearing jeans and a sweatshirt while she's been sitting here reading through this paperwork in just her underwear. She's actually shaking a little. I can't believe I didn't notice this earlier. Why on earth didn't she say something?

"Get up." I tell her giving her a gentle shove off my lap. And it's apparently her breaking point.

"I'm sorry!" She cries. "I thought this would be cute and sexy and fun."

"Oh baby," I sigh, while pulling my sweatshirt off. "Lift your arms up." She complies and I pull the sweatshirt down over her head.

"Oh." She says. "That's nice."

"Come on. Let's get you wrapped up in a blanket. I'll make some lunch." I take her hand to lead her back into the living room.

"I must have hypothermia. Maybe I'm in shock. Did you just say you'll make lunch?"

"Ha, Ha, Donna. I've managed to survive for 25 years on my own. I can make lunch." I get her settled on the couch with her fuzzy blanket around her legs. Then I run into the bedroom and grab a pair of my wool socks. I come back, lift her legs up then sit on the couch with her feet in my lap. They are absolutely freezing. I put the socks on her and rub them briskly.

"Hey." I give her my stern look and voice that I usually use playfully, except this isn't one our games. I'm actually a little pissed off. At both of us.

"I'm kind of mad at us right now."  
"What?"  
"I'm kind of mad at us." I want her to hear that I blame myself too. "This morning was amazing, all sorts of cute and sexy and fun. But I should have noticed that we were working too hard and the fun part was over. AND you should have told me you were freezing. God, Donna, working isn't more important than your well-being."

 

"Who are you and what have you done with my boss?"  
I feel my face fall. Her eyes get wide and she covers her mouth as what she just said registers. I'm not her boss anymore. And it breaks my heart that she thinks that when I was her boss I thought the job was more important than her safety.

"I thought we got rid of the bastard boss and replaced him with the loving husband." I say quietly.

The truth is I never meant to be a bastard of a boss and it kills me to know that's how she saw me. I just really don't understand why she stayed as long as she did.

"I'm gonna go make lunch." I say standing up.

"Josh." She says "Josh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"Okay." I say heading for the kitchen. On the honeymoon we agreed to forgive each other for things like this. So even though it hurts, I'll just let it go.

"Josh" she pleads, standing up. "Please don't walk away." Her tone and the fact that she's standing there with no pants on stop me in my tracks. Dammit. I want her back down on the couch wrapped up in a blanket. I walk back to the couch and sit down and tug her onto my lap. I wrap the blanket around her legs again and wrap my arms around her. She puts her head on my chest, wraps her arms around me and sighs. She's holding on pretty tight.

I'm still trying to process what to say or do here, when she says "Okay- here's what just happened from my perspective- my mouth got ahead of my brain. That was knee jerk bantering and it was a cheap shot at you being a bad boss. WHICH YOU WEREN'T. Why'd I say it? Because I'm not always sweet, innocent, nice Donna. Sometimes I'm cold, grouchy, hungry Donna. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have implied that you care more about work than me. I know that's not true. Please forgive me."

Wow. She's amazing. She's got this wife thing totally down. She's perfect. I'm a schmutz. I let getting an eyeful of all that Alabaster skin cloud my judgment and I didn't do my job to take care of her. And then she apologizes to me. I will never, ever deserve her.

"Hey, Josh?"  
"Yeah?"  
"You know I can't actually read your mind, right? It would be really helpful if you'd tell me what you are thinking right now."

"Ugh. Sometimes it's hard to get the words in my head to come out of my mouth the way I want them to."

"I know. It's okay. I'd still like you to try." Okay, I'll try. I really will do anything for her.

"Um, first, I feel really bad that I let you run around in your underwear freezing for the last 3 hours. I should have noticed you were cold a long time ago."

"Well, it's my fault too. You're right- I should have said something about the temperature. I was trying to be all sexy. Obviously, not very well."

"No, you got the sexy totally down. But for the record, on you a turtleneck is really sexy too. Or you know, we could turn up the heat."

"Okay can we agree to just be even on that? Nobody mad at anybody about it anymore?"

"Yeah."

"Okay- now talk to me about the other thing. I just hurt your feelings. You can be mad about that."

"I'm not."

"Josh." She sounds slightly exasperated. She doesn't believe me. Then, the truth just pours out.

"I'm not mad about that. I'm sad. I'm an asshole. I don't deserve you and I have no idea why you ever put up with me. And I'm scared to death that you are going to figure out that you don't have to and that when you do, you are going to leave. And if you do, I don't think I'll survive this time." My eyes have filled with tears that are about to spill over. I take a deep breath. Well that's it. The whole ballgame right there. I just laid it at her feet.

"Josh" This time the way she says it sounds like her heart is breaking. I look down at her face. Tears are rolling down her cheeks. Oh god. I made her cry.

"Josh. Oh god. I'm so sorry I made you feel like this. I really need you to hear me on this- you were a good boss. Not a perfect boss, but a really good one. And all those times that I worked late and bitched about it. Mostly that was just for show, but the few times it wasn't? It was on me. You NEVER once made me stay when I wanted to leave. I knew that if I said I wanted to go, you would have let me. And I knew that if I had asked for a ride home, you would have taken me."

Yes, that's true. I wanted her to stay, I hoped she would. She usually just stayed until I told her to go. But the times that I told her to come back after dinner or a date, I didn't really word it as a request. But I thought she knew she always had a choice. I just wanted her to choose to come back to me.

"And when you told me to come in early, I knew I didn't really have to. I wanted to. Because I wanted to see you." She's getting through to me a little bit. This is what I thought we had. I'm breathing a little easier but there's still the thing that keeps coming back to me.

"But you SAID that the reason you quit was because I kept you in grunt-level servitude."

"I lied."

"What?" I was shocked and hurt when she said that. I never considered that she might not even believe it herself.

"Josh. I quit because I couldn't do it anymore. I wasn't happy. But it wasn't your fault. It wasn't your job to make me happy. And even if you think it was, how were you supposed to make me happy when I wouldn't tell you what the problem was?"

"You told me. You said you wanted to grow in your job and I wasn't letting you."

"Honestly, Josh, did you purposely hold me back?"  
"No."  
"Did you give me everything you possibly could?"  
"Yes."  
"Did you ever turn down a transfer request or stop me from applying for another job?"  
"No- I didn't think you ever applied for a transfer or another job."  
"I didn't. I liked my job."

"I quit because I wanted something more between us. And I was scared that you didn't and I couldn't go on that way anymore. I couldn't keep working with you everyday loving you like I did, and thinking that you didn't feel the same. I left because I hoped that maybe you'd miss me, and maybe you'd realize that you love me, and maybe you would come after me. When you didn't, I convinced myself it's because you didn't love me at all. And I got angry to try to get over being hurt. And I said things that were not true because I was mad at you for not loving me. And I was mad at myself for loving you so damn much."

"I'm sorry I didn't come after you. It wasn't because I didn't love you. It's because I didn't think you loved me. I believed you when you said that you had outgrown the job. I knew you were capable of more than I could give you. You deserved more. I didn't think I had the right to try to get you to stay."

Donna squeezes me. Then pulls away so she can look me in the eye. "I think we need to get something clear. I'd like you to make me a promise." Anything. I'll do anything.  
"Okay."  
"I want you to promise me that from now on you'll always come after me. If I do something stupid, or say something thoughtless. If I ever run, you'll come after me."

"Okay." Can I ask her for a promise too? Can I ask her not to run? I look down at her and for a second she looks very young. I think about when I first met her and I realize something. She is a runner. Her insecurities go as deep as mine and when they overcome her, she runs. But now I know what she wants. She wants to know that she can count on me not to let her go. She gave Dr. Freeride a second chance and he blew it by stopping for a beer. I won't ever make that mistake.  
"Donnatella, I promise. I will always come after you. I won't stop for a beer. I won't stop for red lights. I won't stop for my insecurities and I won't stop for yours. If I do something stupid, or say something thoughtless, please smack me upside the head instead of running. But if you do, I'll come after you. I promise."

"Good." She puts her head back on my chest. "Do you know what I hear right now?" Is this a rhetorical question? It seems kind of obvious.  
"My heartbeat?"  
"No. I hear MY heartbeat. Your heart belongs to me now. When I sit here like this and listen to it, that's how I know I'm home, Josh."

It’s kind of frightening, knowning that she owns my heart. But the truth is she’s owned it for a very long time. I just wasn’t willing to admit it. And at least now I know that I have hers too, and we’ll keep them safe together.

Home is where the Heart is.


End file.
